Age Diversity by Alexander A. Boni-Saenz

Article | Anti-Discrimination Law
Age Diversity
by Alexander A. Boni-Saenz*

From Vol. 94, No. 2
94 S. Cal. L. Rev. 303 (2021)

Keywords: Anti-Discrimination Law, Diversity, Civil Rights Law, Public Policy

 

This Article is the first to examine age diversity in the legal literature, mapping out its descriptive, normative, and legal dimensions. Age diversity is a plural concept, as heterogeneity of age can take many forms in various human institutions. Likewise, the normative rationales for these assorted age diversities are rooted in distinct theoretical foundations, making the case for or against age diversity contextual rather than universal. A host of legal rules play a significant role in regulating age diversity, influencing the presence of different generations in the workplace, judiciary, and Congress. Better understanding the nature and consequences of age diversity allows us to recognize the unique set of costs and benefits it entails and enriches our understanding of other forms of difference. Further, examining the law with an age diversity lens highlights fruitful avenues for legal reform in fields as varied as immigration law, employment law, and the law of juries. In an era of increased intergenerational tension and a rapidly aging population, the time is ripe to evaluate age diversity and the law’s role in shaping it.

* Associate Professor of Law, Chicago-Kent College of Law. abonisae@kentlaw.edu. For helpful questions and comments, I would like to thank Lori Andrews, Susan Appleton, Kathy Baker, Felice Batlan, Naomi Cahn, Sungjoon Cho, Adrienne Davis, Graeme Dinwoodie, Danielle D’Onfro, Dan Epps, John Inazu, Andrew Ingram, Peter Joy, Pauline Kim, Hal Krent, Michelle Layser, Ron Levin, Marty Malin, Nancy Marder, Nancy Morrow-Howell, Greg Reilly, César Rosado, Mark Rosen, Rachel Sachs, Chris Schmidt, Carolyn Shapiro, Peggie Smith, Noah Smith-Drelich, Brian Tamanaha, Karen Tokarz, Andrew Tuch, Deb Widiss, the editors at Southern California Law Review, and workshop participants at the American Association of Law Schools Annual Meeting, Chicago-Kent, the Chicagoland Junior Scholars Conference, and Washington University in St. Louis, where I presented earlier versions of this Article. For valuable research assistance, I would like to thank Jessica Arencibia.

 

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Prosecution or Forced Transport: Manhattan Beach’s Unconstitutional Banishment of the Homeless

Postscript | Constitutional Law
Prosecution or Forced Transport: Manhattan Beach’s Unconstitutional Banishment of the Homeless
by Jared Osborne*

Vol. 93, Postscript (April 2020)
93 S. Cal. L. Rev. Postscript 70 (2020)

Keywords: Constitutional Law, Ordinance No. 18-0020, Manhattan Beach 

 

It is apparent that an individual’s decision to remain in a public place of his choice is as much a part of his liberty as the freedom of movement inside frontiers that is a part of our heritage. – City of Chicago v. Morales[1]

  Introduction

On September 4, 2018, the Manhattan Beach City Council unanimously passed Ordinance No. 18-0020.[2] The ordinance states, in relevant part: “It shall be unlawful and a public nuisance for any person to camp” on public property.[3] Its stated purposes, among other things, are to keep all public areas “readily accessible and available . . . for their intended purposes”[4] and to promote the “health, safety, environment and general welfare of the community.”[5] Violating the ordinance may be punished as either a misdemeanor or an infraction at the city attorney or city prosecutor’s discretion.[6]

Coincidentally, on the same day the ordinance was passed, the Ninth Circuit held in Martin v. City of Boise that “as long as there is no option of sleeping indoors, the government cannot criminalize indigent, homeless people for sleeping outdoors, on public property, on the false premise they had a choice in the matter.”[7] The court concluded, “a municipality cannot criminalize such behavior consistently with the Eighth Amendment when no sleeping space is practically available in any shelter.”[8]

In turn, Manhattan Beach announced that it would only enforce the ordinance if an individual refused shelter.[9] However, the city failed to mention that Manhattan Beach lacks homeless shelters and that the city planned to have police transport individuals to shelters in other municipalities.[10] Further, many of its neighboring cities also lack homeless shelters,[11] and those that do are over ten miles away.[12] It is unclear what enforcement actions the city has taken pursuant to the ordinance since it has passed.[13] However, the city did join thirty-two other California counties and cities in an amicus brief petitioning the Supreme Court for review of the Ninth Circuit’s Martin decision, which was denied.[14]

Nonetheless, should Manhattan Beach choose to enforce its anti-camping ordinance as planned, this paper argues that doing so would unconstitutionally force individuals to choose between criminal prosecution or banishment. Part I of this paper will briefly provide an overview of homelessness in the United States, particularly in California, and place the Manhattan Beach ordinance within the various laws and practices localities have implemented in response to the rise of homelessness. Part II will examine the use of banishment in criminal law and explore various challenges to such conditions. Finally, Part III will demonstrate that Manhattan Beach’s ordinance and planned enforcement constitute banishment and are invalid for many of the same reasons courts have used to invalidate conditions of banishment imposed in criminal law.

I.  Background

Manhattan Beach’s potential transportation of the homeless out of its jurisdiction should not be viewed in isolation. Instead, it should be evaluated within the current state of homelessness and the laws and practices used to criminalize and control the homeless.

A.  Current State of Homelessness

Before discussing homelessness in America, it is important to understand the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development’s (“HUD”) definitions of homelessness and its Point-In-Time Count. According to HUD, “homeless describes a person who lacks a fixed, regular, and adequate nighttime residence,” “sheltered homelessness refers to people who are staying in emergency shelters, transitional housing programs, or safe havens,” “unsheltered homelessness refers to people whose primary nighttime location is a public or private place not designated for, or ordinarily used as, a regular sleeping accommodation for people,” and “Point-in-Time Counts” (“PIT”)  “are unduplicated [one]-night estimates of both sheltered and unsheltered homeless populations” done every year by local planning bodies during the last week of January.[15]

In 2019, HUD’s PIT counted 567,715 people experiencing homelessness.[16] Approximately 62 percent (356,422) were sheltered while the other 38 percent (211,293) were unsheltered.[17] In California, the PIT counted 151,278 individuals experiencing homelessness,[18] but only 136,839 year-round beds.[19]

HUD’s numbers most likely undercount the homeless population. First, the PIT count of unsheltered individuals uses visual counting, resulting in a sizeable portion of the homeless population being excluded from the statistics on account of being unseen.[20] Second, HUD’s measures do not include either those living with others in temporary “doubled up” situations or those who are currently incarcerated or institutionalized but were homeless prior to arrest.[21] Therefore, it is unsurprising that the population has been estimated to be between 2.5 to 10.2 times greater than the PIT count.[22]

Certain localities have seen dramatic growth in not just the numbers of homeless but also the visibility and awareness of such individuals. For instance, the number of unique homeless encampments reported in the media from 2007 to 2016 has increased by 1,342 percent.[23] While some of these encampments are temporary, many others became at least semi-permanent if not fully permanent fixtures within cities.[24]

B.  Punitive Response to Rise of Homeless Population

In response to these overwhelming numbers, cities have largely favored punitive measures over less costly rehabilitative ones.[25] These measures roughly fit into four categories[26]: (1) ordinances prohibiting sitting, lying down, sleeping, or camping in public places; (2) anti-panhandling laws; (3) trespass admonishments and exclusionary orders; (4) homeless encampment sweeps.

Many cities—like Manhattan Beach—have enacted ordinances banning or limiting a citizen’s ability to sit, sleep, or camp in public places. According to the National Law Center on Homelessness & Poverty’s (“NLCHP”) 2016 survey of 187 cities across the country, 18.2 percent of cities banned sleeping in public city-wide and 26.7 percent prohibited sleeping in particular public places. Moreover, the same survey found that 32.6 percent of cities surveyed restricted camping in public city-wide and 49.7 percent did so in particular areas.

Boise, Idaho’s ordinances on sitting, lying, and sleeping in public places—challenged by plaintiffs in Martin—are illustrative of such laws. One law makes “standing, lying, or sitting down on any of the sidewalks, streets, alleys or public places” in an obstructive manner a misdemeanor upon refusal of an authority’s request to “immediately move on.”[27] Sleeping and camping are also covered:

It shall be unlawful for any person to use any of the streets, sidewalks, parks or public places as a camping place at any time . . . . The term “camp” or “camping” shall mean the use of public property as a temporary or permanent place of dwelling, lodging or residence, or as a living accommodation at any time between sunset and sunrise, or as a sojourn.[28]

As NLCHP’s survey demonstrates, Boise is not an anomaly.[29] Consequently, a 2016 survey found that 75 percent of homeless people do not know a place where it is safe and legal for them to sleep.[30] These laws collectively punish the homeless for engaging in the elementary human need for rest and sleep.

Panhandling and loitering laws further allow the state to exert control over the homeless.[31] The following example from the Los Angeles Municipal Code exemplifies this approach:

No person shall stand in or upon any street, sidewalk or other public way open for pedestrian travel or otherwise occupy any portion thereof in such a manner as to annoy or molest any pedestrian thereon or so as to obstruct or unreasonably interfere with the free passage of pedestrians.[32]

 Other localities, such as Bakersfield, California, more specifically target panhandling, by making “aggressive” panhandling a crime in any public place and placing time and manner restrictions on non-aggressive forms of soliciting.[33] Critics contend that cities have used the wide-ranging latitude such ordinances offer to “target and harass” the homeless for the simple and involuntary act of being in public.[34]

Trespass admonishments are different from previously discussed measures in that they involve private business interests using the power of the state to ban unwanted individuals from private, semi-public, and public locations, including “the public transportation system, hospitals and religious institutions, libraries and recreation centers, neighborhood stores, and social service agencies.”[35] In these arrangements, private businesses band together and deputize local police officers to banish “unauthorized” individuals from places for up to one year under threat of arrest, prosecution, and conviction for violating the trespass admonishment.[36] Likewise, exclusion orders provide localities with another method to keep out homeless individuals from certain areas. For example, in Seattle, any individual violating one of the many rules governing behavior in public parks can be subject to an exclusion order prohibiting entry into the park—and possibly all city owned parks—for up to a year.[37]

Finally, in response to the rise of homeless encampments, cities have resorted to forcibly removing and clearing out these campsites.[38] These sweeps frequently result in the destruction or confiscation of people’s only property, including important items such as tents, sleeping bags, valuables, documents, and even medications.[39] Cities argue that these sweeps are necessary to limit crime, prevent environmental degradation, and promote public health.[40] While these sweeps do allow a city to clean areas,[41] they do so at a steep budgetary and human cost.[42] Even worse, there is evidence that these sweeps are an ineffective means to clear out areas[43] or induce individuals to seek out shelters.[44]

II.  Banishment Overview

A.  Banishment in the Criminal Context

Historically, banishment was a form of punishment whereby an individual was deported and exiled from a specific area, typically a state or country.[45] As others have noted,[46] perhaps the most famous banishment known to Western culture occurred when God banished Adam and Eve from Eden.[47] The Greeks, Romans, Chinese and Russians applied such punishment throughout the world.[48] Furthermore, this tradition was prevalent during colonial times as England “transported” criminals to the colonies.[49]

While it is often viewed as an outdated and primitive mode of punishment, banishment is not unheard of in the United States.[50] Today, banishment conditions are generally encountered as a condition imposed on parole, probation, or suspended sentence.[51] It has been theorized that banishment promotes rehabilitation, deterrence, and public safety.[52] Banishment conditions vary in degree and scope, ranging from state exile[53] to banishment from smaller delineated geographic areas within cities.[54]

Despite the continued use of banishment in the United States, the majority of jurisdictions have found at least some forms of banishment to be void, especially in cases involving interstate banishment and banishment by deportation.[55] In fact, twenty-seven of the thirty-six state courts that have evaluated the legality of banishment orders have held that at least some forms of banishment are illegal.[56] Generally, the larger the area a banishment order covers, the increased likelihood a court will find that the condition is void.[57] Each of the seven state courts that have reviewed banishment conditions requiring a defendant to self-deport from the United States as a condition of probation or suspended sentence have overturned such conditions because they violated the Supremacy Clause and exceeded the trial court’s judicial authority.[58] Further, all fifteen state courts that have ruled on state banishment as a condition of probation or suspension of a sentence have found it illegal.[59] However, at least five states distinguish conditions of parole or pardon from conditions of probation or suspension of a sentence, primarily arguing that banishment is a valid condition of parole and pardon because both involve an individual voluntarily agreeing to the banishment condition.[60]

As for multi-county, county, and city banishments, the results are more mixed. No court has held they are per se illegal, though seven of the ten appellate state courts that have reviewed such conditions have refused to uphold a county or city-wide banishment order.[61]

More limited banishment restrictions—specific areas within a city—have been viewed less suspiciously by courts. In five states, such narrower restrictions have been upheld in every instance these types of banishments were challenged.[62] On the other hand, Alaska and Illinois have both invalidated and upheld intracity restrictions dependent on the attendant circumstances,[63] while California, Florida, and Minnesota have voided intracity banishment conditions each time they have been challenged.[64]

At the state constitutional level, fifteen state constitutions explicitly prohibit interstate banishment,[65] and another six state constitutions forbid banishment without some form of due process.[66]

Federal courts have largely followed the same pattern as state courts—exhibiting a decreasing reluctance to void banishment orders the more limited their scope. The two federal district courts to have ruled on the legality of state banishments as conditions of probation each determined that banishment from an entire state is unconstitutional.[67] On the other hand, in 1983, the Ninth Circuit upheld a parole condition requiring a defendant—a resident of Washington prior to incarceration—to complete parole in Iowa, and not enter Washington without the parole commissioner’s permission.[68] There, the court reasoned that the constitutional right to travel is not “revived by the change in status from prisoner to parolee.”[69] In 1982, an Ohio district court held, under the “very peculiar circumstances” of the case, that a convict’s commutation granted by the governor—conditioned upon state banishment—was valid because the defendant waived his constitutional rights when accepting the commutation, and moreover, the government may impose certain conditions of liberty on individuals released early.[70]

Like state courts, federal courts are much more likely to uphold conditions of banishment from a county or specific area within a state than those banishing an offender from an entire state. The First,[71] Third,[72] Sixth,[73] Ninth,[74] and Eleventh Circuits[75] as well as the Southern District of Mississippi[76] have all upheld conditions banishing an individual from a particular county on grounds that such conditions were authorized by Federal statute, reasonably related to rehabilitation, not contrary to public policy, or some combination of these factors.[77]

Federal and state courts, in addition to various legal authorities, disagree on what constitutes banishment.[78] For example, an Oregon court held:

Banishment, however, has traditionally been “synonymous with exilement or deportation, importing a compulsory loss of one’s country.” The 90-day exclusion at issue here differs from traditional banishment in two important respects. First, it is of limited duration. Second, it does not involve loss of one’s country or even one’s place of residence or one’s ability to carry out lawful business within the drug free zones. As noted, variances are available for those who live within the drug free zones or have legitimate business there.[79]

On the other hand, the Supreme Court of Arkansas defined banishment “as an order which compels a person ‘to quit a city, place, or county for a specific period of time, or for life.’ ”[80] Generally, courts, like the Oregon court cited above, that apply a more extreme definition of banishment—an absolute, unqualified, and long-term ban from a large geographical area—are more likely to uphold banishment orders on a limited scale, whereas courts, like the Arkansas court cited above, that apply a less extreme definition of banishment, are less likely to uphold banishment orders.[81]

Johnson v. City of Cincinnati presents a unique example of generalized banishment. In Johnson, the Sixth Circuit held that an ordinance mandating banishment from all “public streets, sidewalks, and other public ways” within a city’s drug-exclusion zones for anyone arrested or taken into custody on certain drug-related offenses in these zones was unconstitutional.[82] Specifically, the court took issue with the ordinance’s lack of individualized consideration prior to exclusion,[83] and its infringement on the right to intrastate travel.[84]

Ketchum v. West Memphis also involved an individual being banished without a conviction or judicial order. In Ketchum, a man sufficiently stated a claim supporting a violation of his federal constitutional right to travel when he alleged police officers arrested him for loitering in West Memphis, Arkansas, drove him across the Mississippi River, and then “dumped” him in Memphis, Tennessee.[85]

B.  Challenges to Banishment Conditions

Banishments have been invalidated for: (1) infringing the constitutional right to travel,[86] (2) lacking a reasonable relation to rehabilitation,[87] (3) violating public policy,[88] and (4) exceeding the statutorily authorized range of punishment.[89]

Banishment conditions have been found to unconstitutionally infringe on an individual’s right to travel.[90] The Supreme Court has recognized a right to “be free to travel throughout the length and breadth of our land uninhibited by statutes, rules, or regulations which unreasonably burden or restrict this movement.”[91] While the right to interstate travel is a fundamental freedom, not all courts apply a strict scrutiny analysis to banishment as a condition of parole, probation, suspended sentence, or pardon.[92] Some apply rational review[93] and others strict scrutiny.[94] Further, parolees may be subject to harsher travel restrictions than what could be imposed on a citizen not on parole.[95]

One potential reason why courts are more likely to uphold county or city banishment orders over state banishment orders could be a reluctance to explicitly recognize a constitutional intrastate right to travel.[96] The Supreme Court has not ruled on whether there is an implicit right to intrastate travel inherent from the right to interstate travel.[97] However, multiple state and federal courts have expressly found such a right, including California,[98] Washington, Wyoming, Wisconsin, Hawaii, Minnesota, and New York at the state level and the Sixth Circuit[99] at the federal level.[100] “[T]he right to intrastate travel (which includes intramunicipal travel) is a basic human right protected by the United States and California Constitutions as a whole. Such a right is implicit in the concept of a democratic society and is one of the attributes of personal liberty under common law.”[101] Moreover, “[i]t would be meaningless to describe the right to travel between states as a fundamental precept of personal liberty and not to acknowledge a correlative constitutional right to travel within a state.”[102]

Given that many courts do not recognize a fundamental right to travel, or have held that probationers and parolees are subject to stricter restrictions on their constitutional rights, banishment orders have also been challenged as not being reasonably related to states’ dual goals to rehabilitate convicts and protect the public at large.[103] Generally, such challenges are roughly analyzed via an application of the attendant facts and circumstances of the underlying criminal offense, banishment, and the connection between the two. However, some courts, such as Washington[104] and Mississippi,[105] apply a specific set of factors to aid in this analysis. A Texas court held that “banishing appellant from the county . . . when he is broke and unemployed is not reasonably related to his rehabilitation,” especially considering the appellant was a resident of the area prior to his conviction for the unauthorized use of a vehicle.[106] On the other hand, a Wisconsin court upheld a banishment condition prohibiting a convicted stalker from entering a city where his victim resided because it was reasonably related to rehabilitation and the defendant had no reason to enter the city, making the banishment a mere “inconvenience.”[107]

In addition to challenging the penological purposes of a banishment order, courts have held that such orders violate public policy.[108] In 1930, the Michigan Supreme Court, in People v. Baum, articulated how interstate banishment violates public policy:

To permit one State to dump its convict criminals into another would entitle the State believing itself injured thereby to exercise its police and military power in the interest of its own peace, safety, and welfare, to repel such an invasion. It would tend to incite dissension, provoke retaliation, and disturb that fundamental equality of political rights among the several States which is the basis of the Union itself. Such a method of punishment . . . is impliedly prohibited by public policy.[109]

Baum is often cited when courts invalidate a banishment order on public policy grounds.[110] In 1946, a California court applied the same reasoning to invalidate county or city banishments on public policy grounds.[111] Conversely, state courts in Mississippi and Georgia have held that intrastate banishments do not violate public policy.[112]

Finally, banishments have been challenged for exceeding the range of punishment authorized by statute. “A common tenet of criminal law . . . is that the judge can only sentence the defendant to that which the legislature has deemed within the permissible range of punishment . . . .”[113] Thus, absent statutory authorization, a judge may not impose a condition of banishment on probation or suspension of a sentence.[114]

III.  Manhattan Beach’s Ordinance and Practices as an Illegal Form of Banishment

The Manhattan Beach Ordinance and its planned enforcement protocol is unconstitutional because it is a form of banishment, burdens the right to travel, is not reasonably related to rehabilitation or public safety, and violates public policy. This is true regardless of whether the city only enforces it when an individual in violation of the ordinance refuses transportation to a shelter arranged for by the city.

A.  The Manhattan Beach Ordinance and Enforcement Protocol Constitute Banishment

Banishment should be understood as “an order which compels a person ‘to quit a city, place, or county for a specific period of time, or for life.’ ”[115] By forcing a homeless individual to leave Manhattan Beach, the ordinance and its enforcement plan undoubtedly “compels” an individual to quit the city. Further, by arranging mandatory shelter services for the individual, the city has specified a period of time—at minimum overnight—the person may not return given that Manhattan Beach lacks homeless shelters. Despite the seemingly fleeting nature of the banishment involved—one might argue a homeless individual can return to Manhattan Beach after spending the night in a shelter—the realities of being homeless make the banishment substantial. By virtue of being impoverished and homeless, an individual forced to acquiesce to a police officer’s offer of relocation under threat of fine or imprisonment most likely lacks the resources to return in a timely manner. Furthermore, the homeless often have jobs they must return to,[116] nearby families or loved ones that require care or visitation, and vital social services close to where they live, albeit without shelter.[117] As researchers Katherine Beckett and Steve Herbert have documented in their interviews with homeless individuals in Seattle banished from certain city zones, ostensibly temporary and limited forms of banishment have a profound impact on the homeless akin to more traditional forms of banishment[118]

Furthermore, it should make no difference whether or not a person “chooses” to accept Manhattan Beach’s offer to accept shelter under threat of prosecution. Just as courts have ruled that a defendant’s “agreement” to a banishment condition on probation does not make it valid,[119] consent given by a homeless person—who unlike a probationer has not just been convicted of a crime—to accept shelter elsewhere does not make the forced transportation out of Manhattan Beach legal. Therefore, the relocation under threat of prosecution should be categorized as a form of banishment.

B.  The Ordinance and Mandated Shelter Beyond Manhattan Beach’s Jurisdiction is Invalid

California has recognized not only an intrastate but also an intra-municipal right to travel under the United States and California constitutions.[120] Therefore, one is precluded from arguing that the forced relocation to a nearby shelter is too geographically narrow to run afoul of the constitutionally provided right to travel. Moreover, while probationers, parolees and prisoners may be subject to “limitations on liberty from which ordinary persons are free,”[121] homeless individuals—like housed individuals—not convicted of a crime may not be. Given the Martin decision, Manhattan Beach cannot prosecute an individual for sleeping outside if the city lacks shelter beds. Therefore, homeless individuals in Manhattan Beach have not relinquished their full constitutional right to travel and the city would violate this right by mandating an individual leave a municipality where a person wants to remain.

While judges are often legally bound by sentencing guidelines requiring punishment to be reasonably related to rehabilitation and public safety at large, the Manhattan Beach City Council is generally not under such constraints when enacting ordinances and city practices. Nonetheless, the city should apply this type of analysis to its anti-camping ordinance. In this case, the homeless individual is not an incarcerated or supervised criminal, so the city should not be concerned with a criminal rehabilitation, but rather a more holistic rehabilitation aiming to help an individual obtain safe and stable housing. Unfortunately, Manhattan Beach’s plan as currently constructed will most likely fail to achieve this aim. As previously discussed, homeless people live in areas where they have social, familial, and employment ties. Thus, forcing someone to immediately accept shelter at a city determined location—potentially with no input from the homeless individual—seems to bear little relation to the goal of getting a person off the streets. At best it might be a temporary and shortsighted fix for the city at the expense of the individual. At worst, a person will refuse the offer and be arrested by the police, requiring the city to use its resources to house the individual in jail, waste administrative capacity on processing, and most likely end up with the individual back living unsheltered in its jurisdiction.[122] Instead of forcing an individual to choose between prosecution and forced relocation, the city should proactively apply city services, including its newly hired homeless liaison, to homeless prevention, not criminalization or banishment.

Additionally, Manhattan Beach’s planned policies are void for public policy for the same reasons criminal banishment orders violate public policy. It invokes the same problems identified by the Baum court in its critique of banishing criminals: sending one’s homeless to neighboring jurisdictions would most definitely “tend to incite dissension, provoke retaliation, and disturb that fundamental equality of political rights among the several States [or municipalities] which is the basis of the Union itself. Such a method of punishment . . . is impliedly prohibited by public policy.”[123]

Finally, Manhattan Beach’s planned enforcement exceeds the range of punishment provided by statutory authority. A violation of the ordinance is punishable “as a misdemeanor or an infraction at the discretion of the City Attorney or City Prosecutor.”[124] The ordinance does not authorize the forced relocation of an individual upon pain of punishment. Similar to how judicial banishment orders were found to exceed the court’s authority,[125] the city’s planned enforcement exceeds the city’s statutory authority. Further, a potential unlawful seizure could result should a person “accept” transportation to an area shelter.[126]

In conclusion, Manhattan Beach’s plan constitutes banishment because it impermissibly compels an individual to quit Manhattan Beach for a period of time. Furthermore, the planned practices are illegal because they unduly burden the constitutional rights of interstate and intrastate travel, are void for public policy, and exceed the statutorily authorized range of punishment. Finally, the city council should alter its practices given how its plan is not reasonably related to achieving a long-term decrease in the homeless population or increasing public safety.

 


[*] *.. Executive Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 93; J.D. Candidate 2020, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. Art History 2009, New York University. Thank you to my wife, Allison, and my family and friends for all of their support. In addition, thank you to Professor Clare Pastore for her guidance not just during the drafting of this Note but throughout my time in law school. Finally, thank you to the talented Southern California Law Review editors for their excellent work.

 [1]. City of Chicago v. Morales, 527 U.S. 41, 54 (1999) (plurality opinion) (quoting Kent v. Dulles, 357 U.S. 116, 126 (1958)) (holding that an ordinance prohibiting a gang member from loitering in any public place with one or more people to be unconstitutionally vague).

 [2]. Manhattan Beach, Cal., Municipal Code ch. 4.140 (2019).

 [3]. Id. § 4.140.030.

 [4]. Id. § 4.140.010.

 [5]. Id.

 [6]. Id. § 4.140.130.

 [7]. Martin v. City of Boise, 920 F.3d 584, 617 (9th Cir. 2019).

 [8]. Id. at 618.

 [9]. Homelessness, Manhattan Beach, https://www.citymb.info/government/city-manager/
homelessness [https://perma.cc/78KC-XQ6U] (“If the City has arranged for adequate and available shelter, and an individual chooses not to use it, the City will enforce the new Ordinance.”). The city steadfastly maintained its ability to enforce the ordinance. Emily Holland, Manhattan Beach Makes it Illegal to Live On the Street, Patch (Sept. 13, 2018, 10:10 AM), https://patch.com/california/manhattan
beach/anti-camping-ordinance-adopted-manhattan-beach [https://perma.cc/4F8J-3FAZ] (“The City still retains the authority to arrest any individual who has committed a crime, regardless of his or her status, and will continue to exercise that authority . . . .”).

 [10]. Mark McDermott, Anti-Camping Ordinances Aimed at Homeless under Scrutiny, Easy Reader News (Sept. 21, 2018), https://easyreadernews.com/anti-camping-ordinances-aimed-at-home
less-under-scrutiny [https://perma.cc/ZV8W-33UK] (“[T]here are no homeless shelters in Manhattan Beach. MBPD offers homeless transport to regional homeless shelters.”).

 [11]. This author’s search could not locate any homeless shelters in the nearby cities of El Segundo, Redondo Beach, Hermosa Beach, or Gardena.

 [12]. For example, the Doors of Hope Women’s Shelter in Wilmington, California, is a 15.9 mile drive from Manhattan Beach’s city center; the Beacon Light Mission, also in Wilmington, is a 16.5 mile drive; and Jordan’s Disciples Community Service is 16.9 miles from Manhattan Beach.

 [13]. The author’s email to the city’s homeless liaison went unanswered.

 [14]. For this brief, see generally Brief for Cal. State Ass’n of Counties & 33 Cal. Counties & Cities as Amici Curiae Supporting Petitioner, 140 S. Ct. 674 (2019) (No. 19-247) (mem.).

 [15]. U.S. Dep’t of Hous. & Urban Dev., Annual Homeless Assessment Report (AHAR) to Congress pt. 1, at 2–3 (2017), https://files.hudexchange.info/resources/documents/2017-AHAR-Part-1.pdf [https://perma.cc/EG3Q-DYRM].

 [16]. U.S. Dep’t of Hous. & Urban Dev., HUD 2019 Continuum of Care Homeless Assistance Programs Homeless Populations and Subpopulations: All States, Territories, Puerto Rico and District of Columbia 1 (2019), https://files.hudexchange.info/reports/published/
CoC_PopSub_NatlTerrDC_2019.pdf [https://perma.cc/HB2V-EJEM].

 [17]. Id.

 [18]. U.S. Dep’t of Hous. and Urban Dev., HUD 2019 Continuum of Care Homeless Assistance Programs Homeless Populations and Subpopulations: California 1 (2019), https://files.hudexchange.info/reports/published/CoC_PopSub_State_CA_2019.pdf [https://perma.cc/M
9N8-FHF6].

 [19]. U.S. Dep’t of Hous. and Urban Dev., HUD 2019 Continuum of Care Homeless Assistance Programs Homeless Housing Inventory Count Report: California 1 (2019), https://files.hudexchange.info/reports/published/CoC_HIC_State_CA_2019.pdf [https://perma.cc/727M
-ERDB].

 [20]. Nat’l Law Ctr. on Homelessness & Poverty, Don’t Count on It: How the HUD Point-in-Time Count Underestimates the Homeless Crisis 6 (2017), https://nlchp.org/wp-content/
uploads/2018/10/HUD-PIT-report2017.pdf [https://perma.cc/RE4P-ACTM] [hereinafter Don’t Count on It]. One New York study found that 31 percent of the homeless slept in areas “not visible” at the time of the count. Kim Hopper et al., Estimating Numbers of Unsheltered Homeless People Through Plant-Capture and Postcount Survey Methods, 98 Am. J. Pub. Health 1438, 1440 (2008).

 [21]. Don’t Count on It, supra note 20, at 6. Such exclusions are not trivial as Houston’s 2017 PIT count increased 57 percent when including individuals in county jails who reported being homeless at the time of arrest. Id.

 [22]. Id.

 [23]. Natl Law Ctr. on Homelessness & Poverty, Tent City, USA: The Growth of Americas Homeless Encampments and How Communities are Responding 7 (2017), https://nlchp.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Tent_City_USA_2017.pdf [https://perma.cc/K9N5-Y2D8] [hereinafter Tent City]; see also Phil Willon & Taryn Luna, Californias Homelessness Crisis Is ‘A Disgrace,Newsom Says in State of the State Address, L.A. Times (Feb. 19, 2020), https://www.latimes.com/homeless-housing/story/2020-02-19/governor-gavin-newsom-state-of-state-california-speech-homelessness [https://perma.cc/T84S-XNWX].

 [24]. See Tent City, supra note 23, at 7 (“Close to two-thirds of reports which recorded the time in existence of the encampments showed they had been there for more than one year, and more than one-quarter had been there for more than five years.”).

 [25]. See Natl Law Ctr. on Homelessness & Poverty, Housing Not Handcuffs 2019: Ending the Criminalization of Homelessness in U.S. Cities 71–73 (2019), https://nlchp.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/HOUSING-NOT-HANDCUFFS-2019-FINAL.pdf [https://perma.cc/U6EH-L5AS] (estimating that the annual cost per homeless person of arrests, jail stays, ER visits, and hospital stays costs Central Florida $31,000 in comparison to $10,000 per year to provide permanent housing and a case manager).

 [26]. Cf. Farida Ali, Note, Limiting the Poors Right to Public Space: Criminalizing Homelessness in California, 21 Geo. J. on Poverty L. & Poly 197, 212–16 (2014) (categorizing criminalization of homelessness into the following: (1) sleeping ordinances, (2) loitering ordinances, (3) panhandling ordinances, (4) sanitation ordinances).

 [27]. Boise, Idaho, City Code § 7-3A-1 (2019).

 [28]. Id. § 7-3A-2.

 [29]. See, e.g., Durango, Colo., Code of Ordinances § 17-60(c) (2019) (outlawing—with only limited exceptions—sitting, kneeling, reclining, or lying down “in the downtown business area upon any surface of any public right-of-way, or upon any bedding, chair, stool, or any other object placed upon the surface of any public right-of-way between the hours of 7:00 a.m. and 2:30 a.m. of the next day”); see also Santa Monica, Cal., Municipal Code § 4.08.095 (2020); Beverly Hills, Cal., City Code § 5-6-1501–5-6-1502 (2019); Seattle, Wash., Municipal Code § 18.12.250 (2020).

 [30]. W. Reg’l Advocacy Project, National Civil Rights Outreach Fact Sheet 2 (2016), https://wraphome.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/NationalCivilRightsFactSheetOctober2016.pdf [https://perma.cc/KLC8-2GJ4].

 [31]. Terry Skolnik, Homelessness and the Impossibility to Obey the Law, 43 Fordham Urb. L.J. 741, 759–61 (2016) (noting that while not all persons who panhandle are homeless, studies have shown that many panhandlers are).

 [32]. L.A., Cal., Municipal Code  § 41.18(a) (2019).

 [33]. Bakersfield, Cal., Municipal Code § 9.32.020 (2019).

 [34]. Ali, supra note 26, at 212–213.

 [35]. ABA Comm’n on Homelessness & Poverty, No Such Place as “Away:” Why Banishment is a Wrong Turn on the Path to Better and Safer Cities 1–2 (2010), https://www.americanbar.org/content/dam/aba/migrated/homeless/PublicDocuments/ABA_CHP_Banishment_White_Paper_February_2010.pdf [https://perma.cc/4TYY-GWGU].

 [36]. Id. at 1.

 [37]. Id. at 2.

 [38]. Natl Coal. for the Homeless, Swept Away: Reporting on the Encampment Closure Crisis 2 (2016), http://nationalhomeless.org/publication/view/swept-away-2016 [https://perm
a.cc/7FEQ-HGTX
].

 [39]. Id.; see also Jennifer Wadsworth, San Jose Dramatically Increases Sweeps of Homeless Camps, San Jose Inside, (Nov. 2, 2018), http://www.sanjoseinside.com/2018/11/02/san-jose-dramatically-increases-sweeps-of-homeless-camps [https://perma.cc/PV6N-W75X].

 [40]. Natl Coal. for the Homeless, supra note 38, at 5.

 [41]. Dakota Smith, L.A. Wants More Money for Homeless Encampment Sweeps, L.A. Times (Feb. 21, 2018, 4:00 AM), http://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-ln-homeless-clean-backlog-20180221-story.html [https://perma.cc/7QC3-5WQ6].

 [42]. Office of the City Auditor, Report to the City Council City of San Jose, Audit of the City’s Homeless Assistance Programs 41 (2018), https://www.sanjoseca.gov/Home/Show
Document?id=33914 [https://perma.cc/TT3P-QZQK]. The City of San Jose spent over two million dollars during the 2017–2018 fiscal year. Id. at 37.

 [43]. Laura Waxmann, Homeless Advocates Claim April Sweeps Led to More Encampment Complaints, S.F. Examr (May 25, 2018, 12:00 AM), http://www.sfexaminer.com/homeless-advocates-claim-april-sweeps-led-encampment-complaints [https://perma.cc/59KD-BHNC] (noting that an analysis of homeless encampment complaints in an area affected by a major sweep actually increased 8 percent the month after tents were removed).

 [44]. See Natl Coal. for the Homeless, supra note 38, at 7 (“Seattle’s Human Services Department admitted that the majority of campers displaced in sweeps did not end up in city shelters, and a Honolulu survey revealed that more encampment residents stated that sweeps made them less likely or able to seek shelter than the reverse.” (footnote omitted)).

 [45]. 1 Shirelle Phelps & Jeffrey Lehman, Wests Encyclopedia of American Law 462 (2d ed. 2005).

 [46]. Jason S. Alloy, Note, “158-County Banishment in Georgia: Constitutional Implications Under the State Constitution and the Federal Right to Travel, 36 Ga. L. Rev. 1083, 1085 (2002).

 [47]. Genesis 3:22–23 (New International Version).

 [48]. Phelps & Lehman, supra note 45, at 462.

 [49]. Id.

 [50]. See Brian McGinnis, This Is Why Some U.S. Judges Banish Convicts From Their Home Communities, Wash. Post (Mar. 16, 2017, 4:00 AM), https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/monkey-cage/wp/2017/03/16/this-is-why-some-u-s-judges-banish-convicts-from-their-home-communities/?no
redirect=on&utm_term=.1b630b8931b2 [https://perma.cc/6TET-JPVD] (“Houston County, for instance, has banished more than 500 people since 1998.”).

 [51]. Robert E. Haffke, Note, Intrastate Banishment: An Examination and Argument for Strict Scrutiny of Judicially and Executively Imposed Banishment Orders, 57 Case W. Res. L. Rev. 896, 903 (2007).

 [52]. Id. at 903–08.

 [53]. Reeves v. State, 5 S.W.3d 41, 42 (Ark. 1999) (reviewing an appeal of a seven-year exile from the state of Arkansas as a probation condition imposed on a defendant convicted of stalking).

 [54]. State v. Morgan, 389 So. 2d 364, 366 (La. 1980) (affirming a special probation condition that banned a defendant convicted of prostitution from the French Quarter neighborhood for the length of the defendant’s probation).

 [55]. Wm. Garth Snider, Banishment: The History of Its Use and a Proposal for Its Abolition Under the First Amendment, 24 New Eng. J. on Crim. & Civ. Confinement 455, 466 (1998) (“The majority of courts, both federal and state, which have addressed the legality of banishment, have held that banishment is illegal.”).

 [56]. See Brown v. State, 660 So. 2d 235, 236 (Ala. Crim. App. 1995); Jones v. State, 727 P.2d 6, 7–9 (Alaska Ct. App. 1986); Reeves, 5 S.W.3d at 44–45; Alhusainy v. Super. Ct., 48 Cal. Rptr. 3d 914, 919 (Ct. App. 2006); State ex rel. Baldwin v. Alsbury, 223 So. 2d 546, 547 (Fla. 1969); People v. Harris, 606 N.E.2d 392, 397 (Ill. App. Ct. 1992); Burnstein ex rel. Burnstein v Jennings, 4 N.W.2d 428, 429 (Iowa 1942); Weigand v. Commonwealth, 397 S.W.2d 780, 781 (Ky. Ct. App. 1965); State v. Sanchez, 462 So. 2d 1304,1309–10 (La. Ct. App. 1985); Howard v. State, No. 1909, 2016 Md. App. LEXIS 1370, at *37–38 (Md. Ct. Spec. App. Oct. 12, 2016) (unpublished); Commonwealth v. Pike, 701 N.E.2d 951, 960–61 (Mass. 1998); People v. Baum, 231 N.W. 95, 96 (Mich. 1930); State ex rel. Halverson v. Young, 154 N.W.2d 699, 701–02 (Minn. 1967); Mackey v. State, 37 So. 3d 1161, 1166–67 (Miss. 2010); State v. Muhammad, 43 P.3d 318, 324 (Mont. 2002); Ex parte Thornberry, 254 S.W. 1087, 1089–1090 (Mo. 1923); State v. J. F., 621 A.2d 520, 522 (N.J. Super. Ct. App. Div. 1993); State v. Charlton, 846 P.2d 341, 344 (N.M. Ct. App. 1992); People v. Marcial, 577 N.Y.S.2d 316, 317 (App. Div. 1991); State v. Doughtie, 74 S.E.2d 922, 924 (N.C. 1953); State v. Mose, No. 11CA0083-M, 2013 Ohio App. LEXIS 562, at *7 (Ohio Ct. App. Feb. 25, 2013); State v. Jacobs, 692 P.2d 1387, 1389 (Or. Ct. App. 1984); State v. Karan, 525 A.2d 933, 934 (R.I. 1987); State v. Baker, 36 S.E. 501, 502 (S.C. 1900); Johnson v. State, 672 S.W.2d 621, 623 (Tex. Ct. App. 1984); State v. Schimelpfenig, 115 P.3d 338, 339 (Wash. Ct. App. 2005): Crabtree v. State, 112 P.3d 618, 622 (Wyo. 2005).

 [57]. See, e.g., Schimelpfenig, 115 P.3d at 339 (“An order banishing an individual from a large geographical area is bound to raise both societal and legal concerns.”).

 [58]. See In re Babak S., 22 Cal. Rptr. 2d 893, 898 (Ct. App. 1993); Weigand, 397 S.W.2d at 781; Sanchez, 462 So. 2d at 1309–1310; State v. Pando, 921 P.2d 1285, 1286–87 (N.M. Ct. App. 1996); Commonwealth v. Nava, 966 A.2d 630, 635–36 (Pa. Super. Ct. 2009); State v. Karan, 525 A.2d 933, 934 (R.I. 1987); Gutierrez v. State, 354 S.W.3d 1, 7 (Tex. Ct. App. 2011).

 [59]. Warren v. State, 706 So. 2d 1316, 1318 (Ala. Crim. App. 1997); Reeves,  5 S.W.3d at 44–45; Alhusainy, 48 Cal. Rptr. at 919; Burnstein, 4 N.W. 2d at 429; Harris, 606 N.E.2d at 397; Q.M. v. Commonwealth, 459 S.W.3d 360, 370 (Ky. 2015); Pike, 701 N.E.2d at 960–61; Baum, 231 N.W. at 96; Halverson, 154 N.W.2d at 701; J. F., 621 A.2d at 522; Charlton, 846 P.2d at 344; Marcial, 577 N.Y.S.2d at 317; Doughtie, 74 S.E.2d at 924; Mose, 2013 Ohio App. LEXIS 562l at *7; Baker, 36 S.E. at 502; Snider, supra note 55, at 466 (“Almost without exception, courts reviewing a plan of probation requiring a person to leave the state or a large geographical subdivision of the state, have found the plan to be illegal.”).

 [60]. Beavers v. State, 666 So. 2d 868, 871–72 (Ala. Crim. App. 1995) (holding county banishment was valid because there was no statutory or constitutional authority proscribing banishment as a condition of parole, the parole board had statutory authority to set parole rules, and had defendant turned down parole he would have faced banishment anyways, so there was no loss of liberty); Dougan v. Ford, No. 04-623, 2005 Ark. LEXIS 519, at *3–4 (Ark. Sept. 29, 2005) (holding a parole condition requiring defendant not return to a specific county valid because there was no constitutional right or entitlement to parole, the parole board was provided statutorily authorized discretion to set parole conditions, and defendant was free to decline and serve out his sentence instead); In re Petition for Cammarata, 67 N.W.2d 677, 682–83 (Mich. 1954); Ex parte Snyder, 159 P.2d 752, 754 (Okla. Crim. App. 1945); Mansell v. Turner, 384 P.2d 394, 395 (Utah 1963) (“If the conditional termination were void, petitioner has no complaint as to recommitment to prison, since the compact was nudum pactum.”); see also Snider, supra note 55, 466 (1998) (“[A] number of states have drawn a distinction between banishment as a condition of probation or suspension of sentence, and banishment as a condition of a pardon or parole.”).

 [61]. Alabama, California, Maryland, Missouri, Montana, Ohio, Washington and Wyoming have all rejected each county and city banishment reviewed. See Brown, 660 So. 2d at 236 (“Our statutes do not permit courts to impose sentences of banishment. Such an agreement is beyond the jurisdiction of the court and is void.”); Ex parte Scarborough, 173 P.2d 825, 827 (Cal. Ct. App. 1946); Howard, 2016 Md. App. LEXIS 1370, at *37–38; Thornberry, 254 S.W. at 1089–90; Muhammad, 43 P.3d at 324; State v. Jerido, No. 1997CA00265, 1998 Ohio App. LEXIS 2482, at *2–3 (Ohio Ct. App. May 26, 1998); State v. Schimelpfenig, 115 P.3d 338, 341 (Wash. Ct. App. 2005); Crabtree, 112 P.3d at 622. On the other hand, Mississippi has both upheld and invalidated such banishments dependent on the circumstances of the case. See Mackey v. State, 37 So. 3d 1161, 1166­–67 (Miss. 2010) (holding that a condition prohibiting defendant from coming within 100 miles of a city for 30 years was invalid because the trial court’s order lacked factual findings in support of banishment); Cobb v. State, 437 So. 2d 1218, 1221 (Miss. 1983) (upholding banishment condition requiring defendant to stay at least 125 miles away from a county). Georgia and Wisconsin have upheld city or county banishments each time they have been reviewed.   De Terry v. Hamrick, 663 S.E.2d 256, 258–59 (Ga. 2008); State v. Nienhardt, 537 N.W.2d 123, 125–26 (Wis. Ct. App. 1995); State v. Johnson, No. 02-2793-CR, 2003 Wis. LEXIS App 188 (Wis. Ct. App. July 15, 2003) (unpublished), aff’d 681 N.W.2d 901 (Wis. 2004).

 [62]. People v. Brockelman, 933 P.2d 1315, 1320–21 (Colo. 1997); Tyson v. State, 687 S.E.2d 284, 287 (Ga. Ct. App. 2009); State v. Morgan, 389 So. 2d 364, 366 (La. 1980); State v. James, 978 P.2d 415, 419 (Or. Ct. App 1999); State v. McBride, 873 P.2d 589, 592–94 (Wash. Ct. App. 1994).

 [63]. For Alaska, compare Oyoghok v. Anchorage, 641 P.2d 1267, 1270–71(Alaska Ct. App. 1982) (holding that a two-block radius restriction as condition of probation for prostitution conviction was not overbroad as applied, was reasonably related to rehabilitation, and did not unduly impinge upon probationer’s liberty), with Jones v. State, 727 P.2d 6, 7–9 (Alaska Ct. App. 1986) (holding that a forty-five block restriction was invalid as there was no nexus between location and defendant’s crime and the banishment was unnecessarily severe and restrictive). For Illinois, compare People v. Pickens, 542 N.E.2d 1253, 1257 (Ill. App. Ct. 1989) (holding that banishment from a fifty-block area of downtown absent written permission from a probation officer was not invalid and was reasonable), with In re J.G., 692 N.E.2d 1226, 1229 (Ill. App. Ct. 1998) (holding that banishment was invalid because it was not reasonably related to rehabilitation).

 [64]. In re White, 158 Cal. Rptr. 562, 555–57 (Cal. Ct. App. 1979) (holding that a probation restricting a convicted prostitute from known areas of prostitution too broad and unrelated to rehabilitation, and thus unreasonable and unconstitutional); State ex rel. Baldwin v. Alsbury, 223 So. 2d 546, 547 (“[O]ut-of-town or informal banishment . . . from the city is cruel and unusual punishment and is prohibited by the Federal and Florida Constitutions.”); State v. Holiday, 585 N.W.2d 68, 71 (Minn. Ct. App. 1998) (holding that an order banning defendant from reentering all public housing within the city after a charge of minor trespass was an unconstitutional violation of defendant’s right of association).

 [65]. Snider, supra note 55, at 465; see also Ala. Const. art I, § 30 (“[N]o citizen shall be exiled.”); Ark. Const. art. II, § 21 (“[N]or shall any person, under any circumstances, be exiled from the State.”); Ga. Const. art. I, § 1, para. XXI (“Neither banishment beyond the limits of the state nor whipping shall be allowed as a punishment for crime.”); Ill. Const. art I, § 11 (“No person shall be transported out of the State for an offense committed within the State.”); Neb. Const. art. I, § 15 (“[N]or shall any person be transported out of the state for any offense committed within the state.”); Ohio Const. art. I, § 12 (“No person shall be transported out of the state, for any offense committed within the same.”); Tex. Const. art. I, § 20 (“No person shall be transported out of the State for any offense committed within the same.”); Vt. Const. ch. I, art. XXI (“[N]o person shall be liable to be transported out of this state for trial for any offence committed within the same.”); W. Va. Const. art. III, § 5 (“No person shall be transported out of, or forced to leave the State for any offence committed within the same.”).

 [66]. Snider, supra note 55, at 465. Md. Const. art. XXIV (“[N]o man ought to be . . . exiled . . . but by the judgment of his peers, or by the Law of the land.”); Mass. Const. pt. 1, art. XII (“No subject shall be . . . exiled . . . but by the judgment of his peers, or the law of the land.”); N.H. Const. pt. 1, art. XV (“No subject shall be . . . exiled . . . but by the judgment of his peers, or the law of the land.”); N.C. Const. art. I, § 19 (“No person shall be . . . exiled . . . but by the law of the land.”); Okla. Const. art. II, § 29 (“No person shall be transported out of the State for any offense committed within the State, nor shall any person be transported out of the state for any purpose, without his consent, except by due process of law.”); Tenn. Const. art I, § 8 (“[N]o man shall be . . . exiled . . . but by the judgment of his peers, or the law of the land.”).

 [67]. Rutherford v. Blankenship, 468 F. Supp. 1357, 1360 (W.D. Va. 1979) (holding that a ten-year banishment from Virginia was void on both public policy and cruel and unusual punishment grounds); Naked City, Inc. v. Aregood, 667 F. Supp. 1246, 1261 (S.D. Ind. 1987) (holding—without any reasoning provided—that a ten-year banishment from the state was in violation of the Constitution).

 [68]. Bagley v. Harvey, 718 F.2d 921, 924–25 (9th Cir. 1983).

 [69]. Id. The court also relied on the fact that the parolee suggested he complete parole in Iowa, and he was free to return to Washington after parole concluded.

 [70]. Carchedi v. Rhodes, 560 F. Supp. 1010, 1017–19 (S.D. Ohio 1982).

 [71]. United States v. Garrasteguy, 559 F.3d 34, 43–44 (1st. Cir. 2009) (upholding a condition of supervised release requiring defendants to not enter the county—without any exceptions­—where they distributed cocaine for eight and twelve years, respectively, despite the breadth of the banishment giving the court “pause”).

 [72]. United States v. Sicher, 239 F.3d 289, 292 (3d Cir. 2000) (upholding prohibition from two counties, with limited ability to enter with a probation officer’s permission, because it was reasonably related to the rehabilitative goal of keeping defendant away from influences that would engage her in further criminal activity).

 [73]. United States v. Alexander, 509 F.3d 253, 256–58 (6th Cir. 2007) (approving a requirement that defendant live hundreds of miles away from the city where his child and other family members reside after defendant had committed five supervised-release violations); United States v. Rantanen, 684 Fed. Appx. 517, 520–22 (6th Cir. 2017) (mem.) (upholding a special banishment condition from a county because geographic restrictions are expressly authorized by federal sentencing guidelines set out in 18 U.S.C. § 3563(b)(13) and the county restriction was not plain error despite the court’s discomfort with the nine-year length of banishment and lack of exceptions, such as obtaining permission to enter the county).

 [74]. United States v. Watson, 582 F.3d 974, 985 (9th Cir. 2009) (holding that a condition of supervised release to not return to San Francisco or a county for the entirety of defendant’s supervised release without permission of the probation officer was reasonably related to goals of rehabilitation and deterrence and was no broader than reasonably necessary to serve those purposes).

 [75]. United States v. Cothran, 855 F.2d 749, 753 (11th Cir. 1988) (upholding a banishment from a county because it was expressly authorized by statute and “simply not contrary to public policy”).

 [76]. Watts v. Brewer, No. 2:09cv122-KS-MTP, 2012 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 52775, at *26 (S.D. Miss. Mar. 16, 2012) (upholding a sentence suspended on condition defendant remain outside a hundred-mile radius from the courthouse because such a condition did not violate any constitutional rights).

 [77]. See infra notes 7176.

 [78]. See Peter Edgerton, Comment, Banishment and the Right to Live Where You Want, 74 U. Chi. L. Rev. 1023, 1039–40 (2007) (listing various definitions of banishment found in multiple legal dictionaries); Matthew D. Borrelli, Note, Banishment: The Constitutional and Public Policy Arguments Against This Revived Ancient Punishment, 36 Suffolk U. L. Rev. 469, 480–81 (2002–2003) (“The broadened definition of probation allows states to avoid calling punishment ‘banishment’ and escape the regulations that the courts set as precedent. This creates potential confusion over what banishment entails . . . .” (footnote omitted)).

 [79]. State v. James, 978 P.2d 415, 419 (Or. Ct. App 1999) (quoting Black’s Law Dictionary 131 (5th ed. 1979)).

 [80]. Reeves v. State, 5 S.W.3d 41, 45 (Ark. 1999) (quoting State v. Culp, 226 S.E.2d 841, 842 (N.C. Ct. App. 1976)).

 [81]. Key v. State, No. 01-01-01051-CR, 2002 Tex. App. LEXIS 7980, at *7 (Tex. Ct. App. Nov. 7, 2002) (unpublished) (holding that conditions requiring defendant to serve community supervision in a particular county and obtain permission to enter a separate county do not constitute banishment and are therefore valid).

 [82]. Johnson v. City of Cincinnati, 310 F.3d 484, 506 (6th Cir. 2002).

 [83]. Id. at 503.

 [84]. Id. at 498.

 [85]. Ketchum v. West Memphis, 974 F.2d 81, 83 (8th Cir. 1992).

 [86]. See, e.g., State v. Schimelpfenig, 115 P.3d 338, 339 (Wash. Ct. App. 2005) (“At the most, banishment orders encroach on an individual’s constitutional right to travel, which includes the right to travel within a state.”).

 [87]. Reeves v. State, 5 S.W.3d 41, 45 (Ark. 1999) (holding a seven-year exile from the state as a condition of probation is, among other things, “repugnant to the underlying policy of the probation law, which is to rehabilitate offenders without compromising public safety” (quoting State v. Young, 154 N.W.2d 699, 702 (1967)).

 [88]. See, e.g., People v. Baum, 231 N.W. 95, 96 (Mich. 1930) (“[Banishment] is impliedly prohibited by public policy.”).

 [89]. See e.g., People v. Blakeman, 339 P.2d 202, 202–03 (Cal. Ct. App. 1959) (“It was beyond the power of the court to impose banishment as a condition of probation. The provision therefor was a void and separable part of the order granting probation.”).

 [90]. In re Babak S., 22 Cal. Rptr. 2d 893, 898 (Ct. App. 1993); State v. Schimelpfenig, 115 P.3d 338, 339 (Wash. Ct. App. 2005).

 [91]. Shapiro v. Thompson, 394 U.S. 618, 629 (1969).

 [92]. Borrelli, supra note 78, 473; see also United States v. Soltero, 510 F.3d 858, 866 (9th Cir. 2007) (“A restriction on a defendant’s [constitutional right] is nonetheless valid if it: (1) ‘is reasonably related’ to the goals of deterrence, protection of the public, and/or defendant rehabilitation; (2) ‘involves no greater deprivation of liberty than is reasonably necessary’ to achieve these goals; and (3) ‘is consistent with any pertinent policy statements issued by the Sentencing Commission . . . .’ ” (citations omitted)).

 [93]. See, e.g., State v. Morgan, 389 So. 2d 364, 366 (La. 1980) (“[T]he condition of probation [of banishment from French Quarter neighborhood] is reasonably related to Ms. Morgan’s rehabilitation.”).

 [94]. See, e.g., Schimelpfenig, 115 P.3d at 339 (Wash. Ct. App. 2005) (“Because of its constitutional implications, we apply strict scrutiny in reviewing a banishment order.”).

 [95]. Morrissey v. Brewer, 408 U.S. 471, 478 (1972).

 [96]. Haffke, supra note 51, at 919.

 [97]. Id. at 921; see also Johnson v. City of Cincinnati, 310 F.3d 484, 496 (6th Cir. 2002) (“The Supreme Court has not yet addressed whether the Constitution also protects a right to intrastate travel.”).

 [98]. In re White, 158 Cal. Rptr. 562, 567 (Ct. App. 1979) (holding that the intrastate right to travel, including an intramunicipal right to travel, are protected by the United States and California Constitutions).

 [99]. Johnson, 310 F.3d at 498 (“In view of the historical endorsement of a right to intrastate travel and the practical necessity of such a right, we hold that the Constitution protects a right to travel locally through public spaces and roadways.”).

 [100]. Haffke, supra note 51, at 922.

 [101]. In re White, 158 Cal. Rptr. at 567 (emphasis added).

 [102]. King v. New Rochelle Mun. Hous. Auth., 442 F.2d 646, 648 (2d Cir. 1971).

 [103]. See, e.g., State v. Nienhardt, 537 N.W.2d 123, 125–26 (Wis. Ct. App. 1995).

 [104]. State v. Schimelpfenig, 115 P.3d 338, 340–41 (Wash. Ct. App. 2005) (citing the following factors: “(1) whether the restriction is related to protecting the safety of the victim or witness of the underlying offense; (2) whether the restriction is punitive and unrelated to rehabilitation; (3) whether the restriction is unduly severe and restrictive because the defendant resides or is employed in the area from which he is banished; (4) whether the defendant may petition the court to temporarily lift the restriction if necessary; and (5) whether less restrictive means are available to satisfy the State’s compelling interest”).

 [105]. Mackey v. State, 37 So. 3d 1161, 1165 (Miss. 2010) (“[T]he banishment provision herein bears a reasonable relationship to the purposes of the suspended sentence or probation, that the ends of justice and the best interest of the public and the Defendant will be served by such banishment during the period of the suspended sentence, that the banishment provision of the suspended sentence does not violate the public policy of the State of Mississippi, that the banishment provision of the suspended sentence herein does not defeat the rehabilitative purpose of the probation and/or suspended sentence, and such provision does not violate the Defendant’s rights under the First, Fifth, and Fourteenth Amendments of the United States Constitution.” (citation omitted)).

 [106]. Johnson v. State, 672 S.W.2d 621, 623 (Tex. Ct. App. 1984).

 [107]. State v. Nienhardt, 537 N.W.2d 123, 125–26 (Wis. Ct. App. 1995).

 [108]. Borrelli, supra note 78, at 478–79; Haffke, supra note 51, at 910.

 [109]. People v. Baum, 231 N.W. 95, 96 (Mich. 1930); see also State v. Sanchez, 462 So. 2d 1304, 1310 (La. Ct. App. 1985) (“[T]he portion of trial judge’s sentence in the instant case which imposes banishment as a special condition of probation is unconstitutional.”); State v. Doughtie, 74 S.E.2d 922, 924 (N.C. 1922) (holding that a suspended sentence conditioned upon a two-year exile from the state for was void because it was effectively a banishment and such punishment is “not sound public policy to make other states a dumping ground for our criminals”).

 [110]. Snider, supra note 55, at 467–68; see also Rutherford v. Blankenship, 468 F. Supp. 1357, 1360 (W.D. Va. 1979) (“[Banishment] is impliedly prohibited by public policy.” (citing People v. Baum, 231 N.W. 95 (Mich. 1930))); Doughtie, 74 S.E.2d at 924 (N.C. 1953); State v. Charlton, 846 P.2d 341, 344 (N.M. Ct. App. 1992) (quoting Baum to support holding that state banishment violates public policy); State v. Gilliam, 262 S.E.2d 923, 924 (S.C. 1980) (holding a suspension of sentence conditioned on indefinite banishment from the state was invalid because it was beyond the power of a circuit judge and “such a sentence is impliedly prohibited by public policy”).

 [111]. Ex parte Scarborough, 173 P.2d 825, 827 (Cal. Dist. Ct. App. 1946) (“The same principle which prohibits the banishment of a criminal from a state or from the United States applies with equal force to a county or city.”).

 [112]. State v. Collett, 208 S.E.2d 472, 474 (Ga. 1974); Cobb v. State, 437 So. 2d 1218, 1221 (Miss. 1983).

 [113]. Snider, supra note 55, at 466.

 [114]. Brown v. State, 660 So. 2d 235, 236 (Ala. Crim. App. 1998) (“No. Our statutes do not permit courts to impose sentences of banishment. Such an agreement is beyond the jurisdiction of the court and is void.”); Ex parte Scarborough, 173 P.2d at 826; see also State ex rel. Baldwin v. Alsbury, 223 So. 2d 546, 547 (Fla. 1969) (“The court was without power to indefinitely suspend a sentence in return for petitioner’s promise to stay out of town.”); Weigand v Kentucky, 397 S.W.2d 780, 781 (Ky. 1965) (“The Commonwealth concedes it is beyond the power of a court to inflict banishment as an alternative to imprisonment.”); Bird v. State, 190 A.2d 804, 438 (Md. Ct. App. 1963) (“We hold therefore that the suspension of sentence conditioned on banishment was beyond the power of the trial court and void . . . .”).

 [115]. Reeves v. State, 5 S.W.3d 41, 45 (Ark. 1999) (quoting State v. Culp, 226 S.E.2d 841, 842 (N.C. Ct. App. 1976)).

 [116]. See, e.g., Metro. Wash. Council of Gov’ts, Homelessness in Metropolitan Washington 21–22 (2017) (noting that 22 percent of single homeless adults and 32 percent of adults in homeless families are employed).

 [117]. Katherine Beckett & Steve Herbert, Banished: The New Social Control in Urban America 115–16 (2010) (“For many others, though, the fear of going to jail was simply not enough to compel compliance [with exclusion orders]. This was not because they particularly enjoyed jail, but rather that the locales from which they were excluded housed many important amenities, including social networks, contacts, and relationships; social services; a sense of safety and security; and a place they called home.”).

 [118]. Id. “[The judge] said, ‘Oh, there are other places.’ I said, ‘Your Honor, I don’t know how, understand? This is my home.’” Id. at 115 (alteration in original). “I mean as far as being homeless, that’s the only area you know.” Id.

 [119]. Warren v. State, 706 So. 2d 1316, 1318 (Ala. Crim. App. 1997) (holding that it made no difference that the defendant had agreed to this condition as a term of his negotiated plea agreement because the defendant could not consent to a sentence that was beyond the authority of the trial court).

 [120]. In re White, 158 Cal. Rptr. 562, 556–57 (Ct. App. 1979).

 [121]. United States v. Consuelo-Gonzalez, 521 F.2d 259, 265 (9th Cir. 1975).

 [122]. See Beckett & Herbert, supra note 117, at 114. (“Many reported that they resisted their banishment order because they needed access to important services. In particular, both parks and [exclusionary] zones housed services that rendered compliance with an exclusion order impractical . . . .”).

 [123]. People v. Baum, 231 N.W. 95, 96 (Mich. 1930).

 [124]. Manhattan Beach, Cal., Municipal Code § 4.140.130 (2019).

 [125]. Warren v. State, 706 So. 2d 1316,  1318 (Ala. Crim. App. 1997) (holding that it made no difference that the defendant had agreed to this condition as a term of his negotiated plea agreement because the defendant could not consent to a sentence that was beyond the authority of the trial court).

 [126]. “[A] person has been ‘seized’ within the meaning of the Fourth Amendment only if, in view of all of the circumstances surrounding the incident, a reasonable person would have believed that he was not free to leave . . . .” United States v. Mendenhall, 446 U.S. 544, 554 (1980). In this case a reasonable person would not have believed he was free to leave. Moreover, under Martin, a homeless individual caught sleeping outside may not be prosecuted in Manhattan Beach because it has no shelter beds. Therefore, an arrest is improper and transportation to a nearby shelter would constitute a seizure.

Rethinking Racial Entitlements: From Epithet to Theory – Article by Tristin K. Green

Article | Race and Legal Theory
Rethinking Racial Entitlements: From Epithet to Theory
by Tristin K. Green*

From Vol. 93, No. 2 (January 2020)
93 S. Cal. L. Rev. 217 (2020)

Keywords: Racial Entitlements, Voting Rights Act, Affirmative Action, Title VII

Abstract

From warnings of the “entitlement epidemic” brewing in our homes to accusations that Barack Obama “replac[ed] our merit-based society with an Entitlement Society,” entitlements carry new meaning these days, with particular negative psychological and behavioral connotation. As Mitt Romney once put it, entitlements “can only foster passivity and sloth.” For conservatives, racial entitlements emerge in this milieu as one insidious form of entitlements. In 2013, Justice Scalia, for example, famously declared the Voting Rights Act a racial entitlement, as he had labeled affirmative action several decades before.

In this Article, I draw upon and upend the concept of racial entitlement as it is used in modern political and judicial discourse, taking the concept from mere epithet to theory and setting the stage for future empirical work. Building on research in the social sciences on psychological entitlement and also on theories and research from sociology on group-based perceptions and actions, I define a racial entitlement as a state-provided or backed benefit from which emerges a belief of self-deservedness based on membership in a racial category alone. Contrary to what conservatives who use the term would have us believe, I argue that racial entitlements can be identified only by examining government policies as they interact with social expectations. I explain why the Voting Rights Act and affirmative action are not likely to amount to racial entitlements for blacks and racial minorities, and I present one way in which antidiscrimination law today may amount to a racial entitlement—for whites.

Theorizing racial entitlements allows us a language to more accurately describe some of the circumstances under which racial subordination and conflict emerge. More importantly, it gives us a concrete sense of one way in which laws can interact with people to entrench inequality and foster conflict. It uncovers the psychological and emotional elements of racial entitlements that can turn seemingly neutral laws as well as those that explicitly rely on racial classifications against broader nondiscrimination goals. This conceptual gain, in turn, can open up new avenues for research and thought. And it can provide practical payoff: ability to isolate laws or government programs that are likely to amount to racial entitlements for targeted change.

*. Professor of Law, University of San Francisco School of Law. This Article benefited from participation in the UCLA Critical Race Studies Symposium: Whiteness as Property (2014), where I first presented the idea, and the panel on Law, Discrimination, and Constructions of Inequality at the Annual Law and Society Meeting in Mexico City (2017), as well as from presentations at the University of Washington School of Law and USF School of Law. I also owe thanks to Rachel Arnow-Richman, Angela Harris, Peter Honigsberg, Osamudia James, Yvonne Lindgren, Orly Lobel, Rhonda Magee, Gowri Ramachandran, Jalen Russell, Leticia Saucedo, Michelle Travis, and Deborah Widiss for feedback on drafts. Most of all, thanks to Camille Gear Rich for intense re-tooling and inspired conversation about racial entitlements and more.

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Confessions of a Teenage Defendant: Why a New Legal Rule Is Necessary to Guide the Evaluation of Juvenile Confessions – Note by Hannah Brudney

Note | Criminal Law
Confessions of a Teenage Defendant: Why a New Legal Rule
Is Necessary to Guide the Evaluation of Juvenile Confessions

by Hannah Brudney*

From Vol. 92, No. 5 (July 2019)
92 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1235 (2019)

Keywords: Criminal Law, Juvenile Confessions, Civil Rights

The cases of the “Central Park Five” and Brendan Dassey are two of the highest profile criminal cases in the past three decades. Both cases unsurprisingly captured the nation’s attention and became the subjects of several documentaries. Each case forces the public to consider how police officers could mistakenly identify and interrogate an innocent suspect, how an innocent person could feel compelled to falsely confess, and how our legal system could allow the false and coerced confession of a child to be the basis of a criminal conviction. While these two cases made national headlines, they are not unique. False confessions by juveniles are a common and even inevitable occurrence given the impact of the interrogation process on children and the inadequacies of the legal standard that currently exists to protect against juvenile false confessions.

Part I of this Note will discuss the prevalence of false confessions among juvenile suspects, and explain how juveniles’ transient developmental weaknesses make them particularly vulnerable to specific coercive interrogation techniques. Part I will also emphasize the impact that a confession has on the outcome of a defendant’s trial, thereby highlighting the weight that a false confession carries.

Part II of this Note will present the existing law governing the evaluation of the voluntariness of a confession—the procedural safeguards offered by Miranda v. Arizona and the totality of the circumstances test rooted in the concern for due process. Part II will also argue that the totality of the circumstances test is insufficient to protect juveniles because it does not give binding weight to a suspect’s age, but rather considers age among several other characteristics.

Part III of this Note will propose a new legal rule to guide the evaluation of juvenile confessions. The proposed legal rule extends and expands upon the language and holding from J.D.B. v. North Carolina, and requires that age be the primary factor in courts’ evaluations of juvenile confessions. Confessions offered by children during interrogations in which coercive techniques are employed must be presumed involuntary, given the effect that manipulative interrogation techniques have on juveniles’ likelihood to falsely confess. Moreover, given that courts often have no way of knowing the circumstances of an interrogation, confessions by all juveniles should be presumed involuntary until the prosecution can prove that no coercive interrogation techniques were used. Part III also proposes a series of policy reforms that aim to reduce the prevalence of false confessions.

*. Senior Submissions Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 92; J.D. 2019, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. English Literature and Psychology 2014, Columbia University. I would like to thank Professor Dan Simon for his advice and guidance, as well as the members of the Southern California Law Review for their excellent editing.

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Just Transitions – Article by Ann M. Eisenberg

From Volume 92, Number 2 (January 2019)
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Just Transitions

Ann M. Eisenberg[*]

 The transition to a low-carbon society will have winners and losers as the costs and benefits of decarbonization fall unevenly on different communities. This potential collateral damage has prompted calls for a “just transition” to a green economy. While the term, “just transition,” is increasingly prevalent in the public discourse, it remains under-discussed and poorly defined in legal literature, preventing it from helping catalyze fair decarbonization. This Article seeks to define the term, test its validity, and articulate its relationship with law so the idea can meet its potential.

The Article is the first to disambiguate and assess two main rhetorical usages of “just transition.” I argue that legal scholars should recognize it as a term of art that evolved in the labor movement, first known as a “superfund for workers.” In the climate change context, I therefore define a just transition as the principle of easing the burden decarbonization poses to those who depend on high-carbon industries. This definition provides clarity and can help law engage with fields that already recognize just transitions as a labor concept.

I argue further that the labor-driven just transition concept is both justified and essential in light of today’s deep political polarization and “jobs-versus-environment” tensions. First, it can incorporate much-needed economic equity considerations into environmental decisionmaking. Second, it can inform a modernized alternative to the environmental law apparatus, which must evolve to transcend disciplines. Third, it offers an avenue for climate reform through coalition-building between labor and environmental interests. I offer guidance for effectuating the principle by synthesizing instances of its embodiment in law in the Trade Act of 1974 (assisting manufacturing communities), the President’s Northwest Forest Plan (assisting timber communities), the Tobacco Transition Payment Program (assisting tobacco farmers), and the POWER Initiative (assisting coal communities), among other examples.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

I. What is a “Just Transition”? Background and Rhetoric

A. The Transition to a Low-Carbon Economy and the Transition’s Potential Consequences

B. Defining a “Just Transition”

II. Can a Law of Just Transitions Be Justified?

A. An Environmental Theory of Just Transitions

B. Fossil Fuel-Dependent Communities: An Exemplary
Case Study for Just Transitions

C. A Political Economy Theory of Just Transitions

III. Just Transitions as Law: Filling in the
Contours

A. Federal Transitional Policies

1. The Trade Act of 1974

2. The President’s Northwest Forest Plan

3. The Tobacco Transition Payment Program

4. The POWER Initiative

B. Synthesizing Federal Transitional Policies

C. Locally-Driven Transitions

D. Additional Considerations for Pursuing Just
Transitions

Conclusion

 

Introduction

Political obstacles notwithstanding, many in the United States agree that carbon emissions must be quickly and dramatically reduced in order to avoid further catastrophic effects of climate change. Whether the path to a decarbonized world is more winding or straightforward, the effects of a transition to a low-carbon society will fall unevenly on many communities, which raises serious normative questions of justice.[1] In response to this concern, many call for a “just transition” to a low-carbon future.[2] While this phrase has gained significant traction,[3] its meaning remains unclear.[4]

“Just transition” has at least two primary usages. First, the phrase is used to mean that the transition to a low-carbon society should be fair to the most vulnerable populations.[5] The current fossil fuel-based economy has been characterized by inequality and environmental injustice, or environmental hazards that are inequitably distributed.[6] The new, low-carbon economy should not repeat or exacerbate these injustices; in fact, the transition is a new opportunity, indeed an obligation, to counteract them.[7]

The second meaning of “just transition” calls for protecting workers and communities who depend on high-carbon industries from bearing an undue burden  of the costs of decarbonization.[8] It proposes that the shift to a low-carbon economy will affect certain livelihoods disproportionately, and that this impact should be mitigated.[9] As one labor advocate explains, a just transition “means tackling climate change in a way that respects workers.”[10]

This Article demonstrates that the latter, labor-driven concept of a just transition is not only justified but is key to overcoming many of the obstacles that plague climate reform. Environmental policy remains thwarted by a variety of problems old and new. Longstanding “jobs-versus environment” tensions persist, as well as the more general notion that environmental protection represents a zero-sum game with winners and losers.[11] Even before the current presidential administration, scholarship contemplated the future of environmental law in an era of legislative stagnation.[12] Many have called for environmental law to adapt to the times by reshaping itself in various ways—letting go of some of its traditional emphases,[13] crossing over into other doctrinal areas,[14] and becoming more malleable in one manner or another in order to better interact with the political, economic, and social realities of a complex world.[15]

The labor-driven concept of a just transition is powerfully poised to address these deep concerns if scholars and policymakers embrace it. First and most clearly, it reroutes jobs-versus-environment tensions into a principle of “jobs and environment,” taking one of the longstanding thorns in environmentalism’s side and marshaling it toward productive pathways.[16] Second, by blurring the boundaries between environmental law and labor law, it can help align environmental decisionmaking more with the realities of complex social-ecological systems.[17] Third, by aligning environmental interests with labor concerns, it creates potential for coalition-building, thus informing both the ends of climate policy and the ever-elusive means for achieving it.[18] Finally, in an age of dramatic populist alienation,[19] it would inject much-needed economic equity considerations into environmental decisionmaking.

The Article also demonstrates that it is worth choosing one meaning for this term and that the labor-driven meaning makes more sense than the alternative. “Just transition” is a term of art that evolved in the labor movement, first known as a “superfund for workers.”[20] Its specificity gives it potency, and it has already gained traction in other disciplines and with major international organizations.[21] The broader usage, while important, seems redundant alongside comparable but better-known concepts, such as climate justice and energy justice.[22] It is confusing and less productive for different disciplines, and different scholars within law, to use the same term with different understandings of its meaning.[23]

I therefore argue that in the context of climate change, the just transition concept should be defined as some form of help for fossil fuel workers. Yet the broadest theoretical impetus for this help goes beyond environmental law. The just transition is an equitable principle of easing the burden that publicly-driven displacement poses to workers and communities who are highly dependent on a particular industry, especially a hazardous one. The theory has flavors of an estoppel concept, an unclean hands argument, or something akin to a call for takings compensation.[24] It is a principle of distributive economic justice, insisting that those displaced should not alone sustain their economic losses. This idea arises most frequently in response to environmental progress, but it bears relevance to other contexts as well.[25]

The prospect of a law of just transitions raises many questions, however, some of which labor law scholar David Doorey has begun to explore in a germinal article examining the desirability of a potential new field combining aspects of labor law, environmental law, and environmental justice.[26] How would just transitions relate to other models of distributive justice, such as environmental justice, which maintains that the burdens of pollution should be less discriminatorily and more equitably distributed?[27] How would it relate to sustainable development, which aims to reconcile environmental and economic considerations?[28] Would it merely create new employment opportunities when climate-related regulations affect a certain sector, or is it what one union president called it—“a really nice funeral”?[29] Must there be a causal link between regulatory initiatives and impacts on jobs, or does a just transition also concern industry contractions that stem from market forces?[30] Can the two be meaningfully differentiated?[31]

This Article attempts to answer these questions. Part I provides background necessary for understanding the just transitions concepts, disambiguates the two different usages of the term, and argues that legal scholarship should embrace the labor-driven definition. Part II explores three avenues that could serve as theoretical justifications for the labor-driven just transition principle in the context of climate change. Based on a theory of distributive environmental decisionmaking, the history of injustice in coalfield communities, and principles of political economy and interest-group theory, the discussion concludes that the labor-driven just transition principle is indeed legitimate, consistent with relevant norms, and necessary in the face of climate change. Part III synthesizes major federal transitional policies of the past several decades and argues that an effective law and policy of just transitions, especially when targeting regional displacement, must do more to untangle and address the complex, intertwined factors that shape communities’ dependency relationships with particular industries.

The stakes of this inquiry are high. Coal miners have become a symbol for broader national divisions, and commentators still strive to understand the “urban/rural divide” that made its way into the national consciousness via the 2016 presidential election. This analysis offers insights for the plight of coal miners and other rural communities, as well as certain workers’ relationship with environmentalism and climate policy. It also implicates a reconsideration of work, workplace safety, well-paying jobs, abrupt societal change, and private and public accountability for many workers’ abject vulnerability in a period that has been contemplated as a “new Lochner era.”[32] Major social and economic changes will continue to come. Scholars and policymakers would be well-advised to contemplate more robust transitional policy and baseline protections in light of the despair and instability unmitigated transitions can yield.

I.  What is a “Just Transition”? Background and Rhetoric

A.  The Transition to a Low-Carbon Economy and the Transition’s Potential Consequences

The term “just transition” tends to arise in two contexts. Some use the expression to refer to more general principles of equity in the transition to a low-carbon economy.[33] In other words, the shift to a low-carbon economy is an opportunity to rectify the injustices of the fossil fuel economy, and to not do so, or to allow inequalities to worsen, would itself effectuate injustice. On the other hand, some use the expression to refer to the nexus of labor and environmental reform, or the approach of taking work and jobs into account in or after environmental decisionmaking.[34] Yet both meanings derive from overlapping circumstances.

First, the fossil fuel-based economy characterizing the past century has had many casualties.[35] They run the full gamut from a child developing asthma in rural Australia,[36] to executions of community advocates in Nigeria,[37] to fishermen’s damaged livelihoods in the U.S. Gulf,[38] to victims of geopolitical machinations, including war.[39] People of color, indigenous communities, and people living in poverty have borne the worst burdens of the fossil fuel economy, in large part because of energy production.[40] The ultimate “externality” is, of course, climate change, the impacts of which we are already beginning to feel.[41]

The global community is currently experiencing substantial momentum toward a low-carbon, “clean energy” economy.[42] This transition is driven in part by a prevalent desire to mitigate climate change, both in the United States and elsewhere.[43] While the U.S. federal government is hostile to environmental regulation,[44] many U.S. states, cities, and institutions have confirmed their ongoing commitment to reducing carbon emissions.[45] For instance, “[d]ays after President Trump announced that he would be pulling the U.S. out of a global agreement to fight climate change, more than 1,200 business leaders, mayors, governors and college presidents . . . signaled their personal commitment to the goal of reducing emissions.”[46] The transition is also driven by market forces and concomitant evolutions in policy forces—with “widespread recognition, including among utilities, that low-carbon policy drivers are here to stay.”[47] Internationally, countries have taken the opposite approach to the Trump administration’s, such as with China’s plan to invest $360 billion in renewable energy by 2020.[48] Altogether, these factors have compelled some commentators to deem the transition to a low-carbon society “inevitable.”[49]

Nevertheless, a world with low carbon emissions does not somehow transform into a utopia. A shift to a clean-energy economy stands to perpetuate or exacerbate current patterns of inequity. Those patterns could specifically relate to low-carbon industries, for instance, through land theft to develop wind and solar farms, forced labor to extract the natural resources necessary to create solar panels, or impositions of health hazards from biomass fuels.[50] The patterns could also arise in other contexts in the low-carbon world, such us through inequitable access to clean energy.[51]

While these novel risks have begun to receive more attention in dialogues on climate change and the clean-energy transition, so, too, has the slightly more controversial question of “jobs.” “Jobs versus environment” tensions surround nearly every environmental policy debate.[52] Industry advocates and workers argue frequently that environmental reform will destroy individual livelihoods and communities’ entire way of life.[53]

Environmental groups—who have good reason to be cynical—have historically responded to these claims with dismissiveness.[54] Environmental advocates have argued that concerns about jobs are either industry propaganda or misinformed in some way.[55] Complaints that environmental reforms undermine jobs thus often encounter arguments that job losses are not as bad as claimed, or even if they are, environmental reform provides a net benefit to all that outweighs the cost of a few lost jobs.[56]

This tension raises the question: do environmental regulations cause people to lose their jobs—with “lost jobs” often used as a rhetorical stand-in for lost good jobs?[57] And if they do, does the benefit to the greater good offset the lost jobs? These questions are more complicated than they may seem. A first, critical point is that the changes that are necessary for the United States to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions adequately are dramatic.[58] Thus, climate reform that is meaningfully suited to climate change is not the same as the incremental environmental reforms of the past. According to one interpretation, carbon emissions in the United States need to decline by 40% over the next twenty years.[59] Methane and other greenhouse gas emissions also need to be reduced at some level.[60] “To accomplish this goal will require across-the-board cuts in both production and consumption in all domestic fossil fuel sectors”[61] and likely, in other industries as well.[62]

The “transition” is therefore a new era, which could involve a relatively rapid restructuring of society. This rapid restructuring could involve quicker, more extreme contractions of certain industries. According to economists Robert Pollin and Brian Callaci, in this scenario, “workers and communities whose livelihoods depend on the fossil fuel industry will unavoidably lose out in the clean energy transition. Unless strong policies are advanced to support these workers, they will face layoffs, falling incomes, and declining public-sector budgets to support schools, health clinics, and public safety.”[63]

Yet even if the transition to a clean-energy economy involves more incremental changes, it is worth contemplating whether the environmental movement has itself periodically had a misinformed stance on the question of work. As many have pointed out, environmental regulations have been shown not to result in a net loss of jobs for a given society and may in fact produce net gains in employment.[64] This may seem to support the “greater good” argument. Indeed, the clean-energy transition is anticipated to yield dramatic growth in the ever-burgeoning green energy sector, creating millions of new jobs over the course of the coming decades.[65]

However, regulations and other measures have at times also been shown to catalyze job losses for discrete regions and sectors.[66] Viewed through a legal geographies lens—which holds that questions of scale, scope, and place may show that what is “just” at one level is “unjust” at another[67]—this collateral damage of environmental reform does seem more problematic. As one commentator articulated, “[i]f you’re a coal miner in West Virginia, it’s not a great comfort that a bunch of guys in Texas are employed doing natural gas.”[68] While industry advocates undoubtedly exploit, or sometimes invent, such harms, it is possible that the environmental movement has also turned a blind eye to them.

Do job losses that are not clearly the proximate cause of legal reform, but that stem from the evolution of market forces, also deserve attention? Society did not, after all, provide special support to the employees of Blockbuster when mail-order DVDs and online streaming took their place because those services were more convenient and in demand. Why should workers who lose in the transition to a low-carbon economy be given preferential treatment over the many other workers who lose in diverse, market-driven scenarios, if policymakers are not intentionally causing them to lose for the greater good?

The question of causation is addressed in more depth in the subsequent discussion, in which I argue that, especially in the energy sector, it is very difficult to disentangle causal forces among law, policy, and market operations. But further, workers’ dependency relationship with a particular industry and lack of alternative options may be what trigger the need for a just transition; in other words, equitable factors may drive this theory just as much, if not more, than causal ones. Yet, again, these tensions also raise the question of a possible choice between more robust transitional policies and more robust protections for workers and communities in general.

B.  Defining a “Just Transition”

The idea of a just transition originated with the labor movement in the late twentieth century, in part in response to the environmental movement.[69] Labor and environmental activist Tony Mazzocchi is credited with coining the term, with the original version called a “Superfund for Workers.”[70] Referencing the superfund—a federally-financed program to clean up toxic wastes in the environment—suggested Mazzocchi’s proposal was an analogous remedial measure, but for human beings. It was based on the idea that workers who had been exposed to toxic chemicals throughout their careers should be entitled to minimum incomes and education benefits to transition away from their hazardous jobs.[71] Mazzocchi believed “that both nuclear workers and toxic workers, ‘because of the danger of their jobs and their service to the country, should be entitled to full income and benefits for life even if their jobs are eliminated,’” although he later gave in to pressure to reduce his demand to four years of support.[72] After environmentalists complained that the word “superfund” “had too many negative connotations,” the proposal’s name was changed to “[j]ust [t]ransition.”[73]

In the 1970s and through his death in the early 2000s, Mazzocchi and his associates were involved in creating “powerful labor-environmental alliances” that pursued the just transition campaign with the hope of addressing “the jobs-versus-environment conundrum.”[74] He was “the first union president to negotiate partnerships with Greenpeace and the environmental justice communities.”[75] He also developed educational programs for workers on the environment.[76] Mazzocchi’s advocacy thus forms the basis of the modern iteration of the labor-driven “just transition” concept. This foundation shapes the term’s modern usage as the idea that workers and communities whose livelihoods will be lost because of an intentional shift away from hazardous activity deserve some sort of support through public policy.[77]

Meanwhile, the broader usage of “just transition” is of less certain origin. It appears to be the plain-language interpretation of the labor movement’s term of art, thereby calling for “justice” more generally, and not just for workers. In other words, it emphasizes the importance of not continuing to sacrifice the well-being of vulnerable groups for the sake of advantaging others, as has been the norm in the fossil-fuel-driven economy. Thus, the broad concept of a “just transition” may in fact be even more radical than the narrow one because the former calls for a grand restructuring of societal inequality.

This discussion focuses on the labor-driven usage of just transitions and argues that legal scholars should do the same for two main reasons, beyond the fact that it is confusing for scholars in different spheres to be using the same emergent term with different meanings, and in addition to the theoretical discussion below. First, the labor-related usage seems to predate the broad usage and to have gained more traction. Major international organizations have embraced the labor-related meaning. Just transitions for workers have been adopted as goals by the United Nations Environment Program, the International Labour Organization (“ILO”), and the World Health Organization.[78] In 2013, the ILO published a policy framework for a just transition, which focused specifically on workers, noting that “[s]ustainable development is only possible with the active engagement of the world of work.”[79]

In addition, the labor-related usage’s specificity makes it stand out. The broad call for justice shares similarities with other models used to call for equity in the face of climate change, including environmental justice, climate justice, and energy justice.[80] This overlap may suggest that the broad concept has less of a niche to fill than the narrow one, and more risk of redundancy. By contrast, the labor usage’s narrowness may give it more potency.[81] In other words, it is not clear what a broad call for a just transition adds to these powerful and better-known concepts of justice, which all relate directly to the low-carbon shift.

Scholarly commentary complicates the choice somewhat because the literature seems split between the two usages. The broad meaning appears in at least some social science and legal scholarship. In a 2012 book entitled Just Transitions, two sustainability scholars defined a just transition as one “that addresses the widening inequalities between the approximately one billion people who live on or below the poverty line and the billion or so who are responsible for over 80 percent of consumption expenditure.”[82] Environmental justice scholar Caroline Farrell has characterized a just transition as one that avoids “the problems with the fossil fuel economy . . . [and aims] to create a truly just economy,” or as a “transition to an economy that does not create disparate environmental impacts.”[83]

Sociologists, political scientists, and several legal scholars who have explored the labor-related meaning provide a solid foundation from which to continue examining it.[84] They have also begun filling in the contours of what, exactly, this usage of “just transitions” means. Rural sociologist Linda Lobao interprets a just transition as one that “mov[es coal] communities toward economic sectors that offer a better future.”[85] Interdisciplinary scholars Evans and Phelan define it more broadly as “a political campaign to ensure that the costs of environmental change [towards sustainability] will be shared fairly. Failure to create a just transition means that the cost of moves to sustainability will devolve wholly onto workers in targeted industries and their communities.[86]

In the legal sphere, David Doorey’s definition emphasizes work somewhat more. He explains the concept as “a policy platform that advocates legal and policy responses and planning that recognizes the need for economies to transition to lower carbon economic activity, while at the same time respects the need to promote decent work and a fair distribution of the risks and rewards associated with this transition.”[87] Climate law scholar J. Mijin Cha describes a just transition as “protecting workers who are impacted by climate protection policy,” including by re-training workers and providing them with education funds.[88] Ramo and Behles emphasize the need to recognize communities’ economic dependency on high-emissions activity as those communities transition away from that activity, suggesting, like Labao, that a just transition “help[s] revitalize . . . fossil-fuel dependent communities.”[89]

Calls for just transitions appear to arise the most in union advocacy, which again lends weight to the choice of the labor-driven definition. The International Trade Union Confederation has described a just transition as a “tool the trade union movement shares with the international community, aimed at smoothing the shift towards a more sustainable society and providing hope for the capacity of a ‘green economy’ to sustain decent jobs and livelihoods for all.”[90] Generally, just transitions advocates “highlight the need to engage affected workers and their representative trade unions in institutionalised formal consultations with relevant stakeholders including governments, employers and communities at national, regional and sectoral levels.”[91]

Despite the appearance of “justice” in the name of just transitions, few legal commentators have delved more deeply into the legitimacy, significance, or traits of the idea of a just transition. The next Part reviews Doorey’s article, further characterizes the labor-driven just transition concept, and explores what principles may or may not support the concept.

II.  Can a Law of Just Transitions Be Justified?

This Part asks whether incorporating the just transition principle into law is a worthwhile endeavor, theoretically and practically. Exploring three potential justifications for doing so—one based on environmental theory, one based on the experiences of coal communities, and one based on strategic considerations—the discussion reveals that pursuing just transitions is not merely a nice thing to do. Rather, this discussion supports the conclusion that the concept not only fits neatly within the sustainable development framework—an internationally accepted framework for reconciling competing interests in environmental decisionmaking—but that it in fact injects a long-overlooked, much-needed consideration of economic equity.[92] This Part argues further that coal communities are particularly worthy of attention because of their history of combined exploitation and dependence. This Part’s third argument relies on interest-group theory to propose that the pursuit of just transitions is desirable because it could unite environmental and labor groups around the goal of a potentially more attainable and more equitable climate policy than prior efforts have secured.

David Doorey’s article is the first piece of legal scholarship to explore the worthiness and potential contours of a body of Just Transitions Law (“JTL”). He notes that labor law scholars have “mostly ignored” the effects that climate change will have on labor markets, while environmental law scholars have generally disregarded labor relationships.[93] Because neither legal field seems adequately equipped to handle climate change, he considers whether a new field is needed that combines the strengths of each.[94]

Doorey suggests that areas of common ground between labor and environmental scholarship might be ripe for doctrinal synthesis, such as the fact that both are in the business of “impos[ing] a countervailing power on unbridled economic activity.”[95] Yet he also notes that “jobs versus environment” tensions and other conflicting interests have tended to keep the fields apart.[96] Without coming to a firm conclusion as to whether JTL is worthwhile as a new legal field, Doorey does conclude that a just transition strategy is critical in the face of climate change, and that “[t]o implement a just transition strategy, governments need to design policies that cross existing government ministerial portfolios and legal regimes.”[97]

Doorey explores three potential forms for a body of law that marries aspects of labor and environment, including: 1) “[a] [l]aw of [e]conomic [s]ubordination and [r]esistance” that combines environmental justice’s and labor law’s overlapping recognition of power relations and embrace of collective, bottom-up resistance;[98] 2) a law of “[h]uman [c]apital or [c]apacities,” which would assess the fairness of rules, both environmental and labor-related, based upon whether they further human capabilities and freedom; and 3) an explicitly-named body of “Just Transitions Law,” (“JTL”), which would draw upon existing just transitions policy strategies, such as the ILO’s, aimed at joint consideration of environmental and labor goals, including pursuing cross-sectoral collaboration, incentivizing sustainable industries, and offsetting impacts to workers affected by environmental policies.[99]

For his third proposal, the explicit body of JTL, Doorey provides three “normative claims (NC) drawn from climate science, environmental law, environmental justice, and labour law.”[100] They include:

Firstly, climate change is a pressing global problem that market forces alone will not adequately address. Therefore, states should respond through public policy and law (NC1). Secondly, public policy should encourage a transition towards greener, lower carbon economies (NC2). Thirdly, there will be social and economic costs and benefits associated with climate change, and with the transitional policies aimed at responding to it, and those costs and benefits will also not be equitably distributed by market forces alone. Therefore, governments should seek to minimize the economic and social harms associated with the desired transition to a greener economy, and attempt, through law and policy, to distribute those harms and any resulting benefits in an equitable manner (NC3).[101]

This discussion begins with Doorey’s third proposal and adopts his normative claims for reference. While his first two proposals have great appeal, his third one seems to capture the already-existing evolution of this area of law.

However, like with the broadly-defined just transition described above, one might ask what this set of normative claims adds to the concept of climate justice. A centerpiece of the evolving theory of climate justice is public policy geared toward equitable sharing of the burdens and benefits of climate change through transparent consultation with diverse stakeholders.[102] Climate justice also espouses recognition of the fact that some communities are more vulnerable to the effects of climate change than others, and are more likely to be excluded from benefits.[103]

In order to capture the potency that more specific concepts may yield, to avoid duplicative efforts, and to recognize the labor movement’s role in formulating this theory of justice, I would add a fourth normative claim to Doorey’s third proposal, whether explicitly or implicitly, which is justified in more depth below: the needs of the workers and communities that have developed dependency relationships with high-carbon industries, often with substantial past and present socioeconomic costs, should specifically factor into calculating the equitable distribution of harms and benefits in the transition to a decarbonized economy. This consideration is not proposed as a competitor to environmental justice, climate justice, or any other framework concerned with vulnerability. It is, rather, a call for the specific recognition of work and existing economic dependencies in the decarbonization process, which have often gone overlooked.

This discussion does not take up the question of whether JTL should be an entirely new area of law. Like Doorey’s, it is intended as an “early contribution” to this emerging field.[104] The discussion therefore explores instead whether the just transition principle is worthwhile, and how it could be incorporated into law—which is perhaps also a worthwhile consideration as an alternative to establishing a new legal field.

A.  An Environmental Theory of Just Transitions

The discussion in this Section argues that the labor-driven just transition concept has a natural and important place within current prominent distributive environmental decisionmaking frameworks. In other words, this discussion seeks to legitimize the concept and situate it in relevant literature. The discussion shows that the idea is neither foreign nor frivolous in relation to environmental theory. But further, I argue that it adds a point of consideration that other frameworks have tended to overlook, suggesting all the more that it is a worthwhile idea.

The just transition concept, understood in the context of climate change, is a call for distributive justice in (or after) environmental decisionmaking.[105] In order to understand or define it, then, it is important to assess it in relation to existing models for environmental distributive justice. Sustainable development and environmental justice are two of the most prominent of these models.[106] Each model strayed from traditional environmentalism, which is largely focused on pro-conservation, anti-pollution measures, in order to try to establish a framework that takes more socioeconomic realities into account, including the need for equitable distribution of benefits and burdens.[107]

Environmental injustice was originally known as environmental racism, calling attention to the fact that communities of color bear a disproportionate burden of environmental hazards.[108] Sustainable development, meanwhile, is a forward-looking decisionmaking paradigm that seeks to harmonize conservation priorities with economic considerations as well as social equity.[109] While environmental justice adds a civil rights component to environmentalism, sustainable development aims to mitigate standard development by incorporating historically overlooked priorities into development decisions.[110]

The just transition concept exhibits a significant parallel with environmental justice in that both ideas were born as social movements in the late twentieth century in response to the environmental movement.[111] Environmental justice calls for racial equity (and other forms of non-discrimination), while just transitions calls for labor equity. The movements are thus not dissimilar in that each advocates a distributive component on top of traditional environmentalism’s conservation priorities. Another parallel is that each is a broad, equitable principle that is at times embodied in laws in different ways. Yet the movements and legal schemes associated with each concept have rarely interacted, in part because of conflicting priorities and cultural backgrounds.[112]

Sustainable development, as compared to environmental justice, has perhaps more direct applicability to the question of work. The sustainable development approach aims to “capture[] the interrelationship between the environment, the economy, and human well-being in the effort to meet ‘the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.’”[113] In other words, it is “a decisionmaking framework to foster human well-being by ensuring that societies achieve development and environment goals at the same time.”[114] Sustainable development directly aims to undermine the fossil fuel economy. It thus, in turn, creates the need for a “just transition,” in that it is fundamentally premised on a shift to renewable energy sources.[115] Yet it also may provide tools for ensuring a just transition because of its concern for economic and equity-related priorities.

While sustainable development as a theory faces many criticisms, it is “not simply an academic or policy idea; it is the internationally accepted framework for maintaining and improving human quality of life.”[116] For instance, based on the overall aim of sustainable development, international frameworks have adopted as goals both poverty eradication and addressing “[t]he deep fault line that divides human society between the rich and the poor and the ever-increasing gap between the developed and developing worlds . . . .”[117] Sustainable development’s actual implementation takes on many forms, as the approach “needs to be realized in the particular economic, natural, and other settings of each specific country,”[118] as well as each specific state or city. “The key action principle of sustainable development is integrated decisionmaking. Essentially, decisionmakers must consider and advance environmental protection at the same time as they consider and advance their economic and social development goals.”[119] This contrasts with conventional development, where environmental concerns historically arose only as afterthoughts.[120]

Sustainable development decisionmaking is often represented as a triangle. Its three points are the economy, the environment, and equity or social justice.[121] The points are a simplified representation of the three values or priorities that sustainable development seeks to reconcile.[122] The standard sustainable development triangle is represented in Figure 1.


Figure 1
.  Sustainable Development Framework

 

The triangle represents an accessible conceptualization of the harmony that the decisionmaking paradigm seeks to achieve. In turn, these three values are embodied in law and policy in varied ways. For example, a traditional building code, reworked through the lens of sustainable development values, could transform into a “green” building code, prioritizing materials with minimal environmental impacts and low-carbon energy sources. The “equity” prong might dictate that new housing developments, as an example, should not only be green, but also affordable.

Environmental justice and sustainable development may seem like they occupy different spheres of environmental theory, but Uma Outka has observed that they have the potential for synergy. She notes a risk of conflict between the two models as the broader sustainable development agenda might prove insensitive to environmental justice concerns.[123] For instance, at the project level, sustainable development and environmental justice can face tensions, such as if the siting of wind farms (comporting with sustainable development’s driving concern for carbon reduction) harms indigenous cultural resources (violating environmental justice’s concern for communities’ autonomous decisionmaking and the non-discrimination principle).[124] Yet Outka argues that environmental justice in fact refines sustainable development by adding the particular environmental justice conception of equity.[125] She concludes that for sustainable development to be consistent with environmental justice, the significant differences among renewable energy sources require more recognition and concrete definition, so that each pathway’s potential for inequity can be better understood and addressed.[126]

 Outka’s articulation of this relationship can thus perhaps be represented by Figure 2 below, which highlights environmental justice as an aspect of the sustainable development framework at the nexus of the environment and equity points of the triangle. In other words, environmental justice becomes another value that must be harmonized with other values in environmental decisionmaking, including the three Es. As a principle of environmental equity, environmental justice aligns with sustainable development at the nexus of sustainable development’s environment and equity prongs.


Figure 2
.  Sustainable Development with Environmental Justice Refinement

 

Figure 2 is not meant to suggest that environmental justice is the only refinement to sustainable development, or the only point of interest on the environment-equity leg. However, in a decisionmaking framework that is intended to manage complex scenarios, understanding these relationships can help inform the characteristics of normative paradigms. Environmental justice is a call for environmental equity, and it has a natural locus in the sustainable development paradigm.

When viewed through the framework of sustainable development, just transitions no longer seems like such a foreign concept to environmental law. Primarily, environmental decisionmakers already have a framework for considering questions of economic equity as they relate to environmental decisionmaking. Just transitions, with its concern for avoiding or mitigating inequitable impacts to livelihoods in environmental decisions, is ultimately a doctrine of economic equity. Thus, a natural place for just transitions is running parallel to environmental justice and in the analogous position along the economic and equity side of the triangle, as shown in Figure 3.


Figure 3
.  Sustainable Development Framework with Environmental Justice and Just Transitions

 

This visualization is powerful because it suggests that, like environmental justice, a just transition is simply a refinement to a framework upon which decisionmakers already rely. While it might also be said to have already existed along the economy-equity side, it has largely gone unrecognized. Just as environmental justice is a principle of environmental equity that must be harmonized with other values, the just transition is a principle of economic equity that should also factor into the calculus—and it appears to have a natural place within that calculus.

Another reason this visualization is powerful is that it builds upon increasingly vocal calls for environmental justice to inform the transition to a low-carbon society.[127] These calls, in fact, circle back on the broad meaning of the just transition—the idea that the decarbonization process must be done fairly in general.[128] One may be concerned that these paradigms might all conflict with each other in the transition, or pose difficult zero-sum choices. The visualization in Figure 3 shows that these principles are complementary, and in fact, bring environmental decisionmaking toward a more holistic picture of societal needs.[129]

This visualization may also help reconcile some of the tensions between sustainable development theory and resilience theory. Resilience theory has emerged as a counter-framework to sustainable development.[130] Resilience theorists’ criticisms of sustainable development are that sustainable development assumes stationary, controllable circumstances; potentially sanctions current patterns of harmful development and an ethic of “green consumerism;” and fails to account for complexity, or the interrelatedness of complex social-ecological systems.[131] This latter point is particularly concerning to resilience theorists in the age of climate change, which will involve more drastic changes in ecological and social regimes than previously seen.[132] Resilience theorists instead advocate decisionmaking paradigms that are iterative, or ongoing, rather than traditional planning processes; that involve “principled flexibility;[133] and that anticipate constant change in social-ecological systems.[134] Adaptive management and adaptive governance have been considered potential vehicles for pursuing resilience governance, although scholars agree that a gap remains between theory and practice.[135]

Although the rift may be large, perhaps the addition of environmental justice and just transitions to the sustainable development framework brings sustainable development a modest inch closer to resilience thinking. The more points of interest that are added to the sustainable development framework, the more sustainable development would seem to wield potential for decisionmaking that accommodates social-ecological systems. Figure 4 illustrates that the framework above can in fact represent a continuum of social, economic, and natural concerns.[136] While there are infinite points of interest on the continuum, environmental justice and just transitions show points of particular concern based on society’s historical and potential inequities. If one recognizes that the sustainable development paradigm could have infinite points, the next natural inference must be an acceptance of uncertainty because infinite interacting aspects of social-ecological systems could never be stationary.


Figure 4
.  Making Sustainable Development Work for Social-Ecological Systems

 

In any case, the frameworks above show how the just transition concept has a natural place with several prominent environmental theories of today. But it can also follow the path of environmental justice and sustainable development in that it may at times be a principle warranting contemplation, rather than all or part of a framework in and of itself. Both environmental justice and sustainable development are “normative conceptual framework[s]” that are in turn embodied in law in various ways, sometimes simply as policy goals.[137] Just transitions can join their ranks as such a principle as well, offering an additional equitable priority, or a more concrete framework for decisionmaking.

In general, environmental law scholars have increasingly recognized the need to account for the jobs question, rather than to dismiss it.[138] As Richard Lazarus articulates, “there has been at best only an ad hoc accounting of how the benefits of environmental protection are spread among groups of persons.”[139] Environmental law scholars have recently contemplated how to overcome the perception and reality of “zero-sum” environmentalism, in which some segments of society must lose, or think they are losing, in pursuit of environmental progress.[140] This realization has come about at the same time as the recognition that environmental law is overall inadequate in the face of climate change.[141] The placement of just transitions into the framework above helps address both these concerns. It provides a way to think about contemplating livelihoods in environmental decisionmaking, as well as making decisionmaking align better with social-ecological systems.

B.  Fossil Fuel-Dependent Communities: An Exemplary Case Study for Just Transitions

The discussion in this Section examines what, exactly, is meant by “fossil fuel-dependent communities” and why they have prompted so much interest in just transitions in the climate change era. Many communities that depend on high-carbon industries have a unique history and relationship to work, and many have borne profound costs associated with energy production for over a century.[142] Yet the rest of society has alternately encouraged, acquiesced in, or benefited from this hazardous, economically depleting way of life.[143] Based on these troubling circumstances, this Section argues that the labor-driven just transition concept is legitimate because it is fair to these specific communities. A critical point is to understand that fossil fuel-dependent communities were not born in a vacuum. They were created. This discussion uses Appalachia as an example, but its story is relevant to comparable scenarios throughout the country.[144]

As early as the 1700s, companies played a central role in developing isolated Appalachian mono-economies, or monopsonies, where workers and communities became hostage to desperate dependency relationships.[145] The dependence stemmed in part from a rush of speculators in the 1800s seeking to acquire Appalachian land.[146] Locals, mostly subsistence farmers, did not know the worth of the minerals under their land and sold property interests for well under market value.[147] “Others who refused to sell their land became victims of legal traps, such as being jailed and then offered bond in exchange for their land.”[148]

Appalachia evolved into what some scholars call an “internal colony” or a “sacrifice zone,” which was “created to provide cheap resources to fuel the rest of the country.”[149] Companies dominated land ownership and isolated communities from penetration by other industries.[150] Through isolating people and dispossessing them of land, coal companies sought to turn local residents “into a docile workforce” that lived and breathed extractive work, residing in company towns and coal camps and paid in “scrip” instead of money.[151] While company towns are no longer the norm, the effects of these relationships are still felt in Appalachia today. Yet this was all in the name of “the greater good,”[152] with fossil fuel communities serving as the nation’s cheap energy powerhouse.[153]

Serving as the nation’s energy powerhouse has been costly. For decades, coal miners have lost their lives in and because of the mines.[154] Some of these deaths were in major disasters that caught the public’s attention, but most of them were a regular procession of daily accidents and health harms.[155] These hazards are not a phenomenon of history, either. “Between 1996 and 2005, nearly 10,000 miners died of black lung disease.”[156] As of this writing, black lung rates have in fact been rising.[157]  Yet the costs have not been limited to miners themselves. Residents living near mountaintop removal sites suffer high rates of disease and morbidity.[158] In addition to compromised health and safety, residents of fossil fuel communities have seen the destruction of irreplaceable cultural and ecological resources, as well as entrenched poverty and limited economic alternatives.[159]

Yet throughout the evolution of this exploitative dynamic, these relationships were encouraged and actively supported by the rest of the country through law and policy, evolving with the knowledge and acquiescence of the larger political body despite intermittent recognition of Appalachian problems. When coal miners sought to improve their conditions in the early twentieth century, federal actors intervened on behalf of companies.[160] In Hitchman Coal & Coke Co. v. Mitchell, the Supreme Court sanctioned mine operators’ power to contract with workers to prevent unionization.[161] In the 1921 Battle of Blair Mountain, the United States Army intervened to stop an uprising of miners, after which the Army left West Virginia to resolve the conflict internally, much to the detriment of the miners.[162] Black lung, a “chronicle of a preventable disease that was not prevented,” was ignored by state and federal public health authorities for most of the twentieth century “[d]espite the fact that physicians working among coal miners in the nineteenth century recognized and called attention to . . . [this] public health disaster.”[163] These egregious conditions notwithstanding, throughout the twentieth century, tax incentives and subsidies to the fossil fuel industry became a part of law.[164] As of 2017, the federal government continued to support fossil fuel production with $14.7 billion in subsidies, and state governments provided a total of $5.8 billion in incentives.[165]

Meanwhile, coal communities’ suffering was not unknown. Congress made a show of helping Appalachian residents with measures such as the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act (SMCRA). Yet SMCRA “has fallen far short of its potential;[166] indeed, with provisions providing for oversight by states known to be dominated by industry,[167] it could hardly be deemed an earnest effort to remedy Appalachian suffering. Similarly, the Black Lung Benefits Act of 1973 nominally addressed black lung, only to help a mere 7.6% of claimants in “a system that miners, unable to attract attorneys and financially incapable of matching the coal companies’ development of medical evidence, wholeheartedly despise[d] as unjust.”[168]

U.S. society thus has a decades-long tradition of propping up the fossil fuel industry and acquiescing in its creation of exploitative mono-economies. Viewed in this light, workers’ and communities’ anticipation or hope that support might continue for their sole economic lifeline seems less unreasonable than if one views that anticipation standing alone in the context of today’s changed markets, or viewed through the lens of communities with more resources or alternative options.[169] The argument that fossil fuels are harmful and that people simply have to find other jobs overlooks a longstanding history of exploitation and isolation, an abusive tradition from which the majority has benefited. A swift, unmitigated shift away from these industries stands to exacerbate the injustices that fossil fuel communities have already experienced. The transition has, in fact, already begun, and fossil fuel communities have not fared well.[170] Coal country has already lost a substantial portion of employment opportunities, and with those lost jobs have come lost tax resources, businesses, population, and spirit.[171]

One might argue that this is the nature of economic developments: markets change and workers and communities who bear the losses of those transitions must adapt, evolve, and potentially relocate. Yet attempts to distinguish between the public and private spheres in this context ring hollow. First, fossil fuel workers and communities have been engaged in what should be characterized as quasi-public activity.[172] While their contributions to the nation’s energy supply were through direct relationships with private companies, those companies were empowered by the public. The workers’ and communities’ labor and losses fueled a public electricity grid and provided fundamental public benefits for which they bore immeasurable externalized costs.

Second, one would be hard-pressed to disentangle the diverse public and private factors that converge to shape discrete sectors, especially in the energy context.[173] Many have pointed to the cheapness of natural gas as a driving force undermining the coal industry in order to suggest that coal’s decline is a private phenomenon not warranting mitigation.[174] However, Congress’s decision to impose minimal regulations on the natural gas industry was an intentional public policy development that shaped the status quo in foreseeable ways.[175]

These circumstances illustrate that, if nothing else, principles of fairness and equity weigh in favor of a just transition for these communities. Yet these principles also implicate some of the basic premises of our legal system. Communities’ expectations and reliance have been encouraged, even coerced, through law and policy. While formal legal avenues have been of little help to them—to demand, for instance, the delayed closure of a plant, collective compensation for environmental degradation to the region, or meaningful assistance with the black lung pandemic—the ethical impetus to help these communities transcends a mere nicety.

Several lines of scholarship have insisted upon the materiality of expectations at the community level. Joseph Sax was concerned with community reliance and formal property law’s silence on communities.[176] He argued “that the law offered no opportunity even to raise a question about the non-economic losses incurred when an established community is destroyed . . . for ‘just compensation’ includes only the value of the economic interests taken.”[177] He noted that:

there is a widespread sense that community is important, and a willingness exists to protect community interests; yet there is no principle or doctrine to which to turn in those cases where, for whatever reasons, the people affected are unable to generate the political support necessary to induce an act of grace.[178]

Sax argued that “[t]he idea of justice at the root of private property protections calls for identification of those expectations which the legal system ought to recognize,” including at the community level.[179]

The concern for community reliance evokes the related concern that frustrated expectations can lead to social instability and political upheaval.[180] For instance, Sax argued that the public trust doctrine was not merely a state’s obligation to conserve natural resources, as many understand it, but is also a means of marrying customs with formal law in order to respect common expectations and ward off social unrest.[181]

This line of thinking seems to suggest that where formal law fails to recognize the meaningful nature of coal communities’ reliance upon their way of life, the lens of first principles illuminates the way of life as meaningful and worth respecting. The reasons for undermining that way of life seem meaningful too. Fossil fuel communities have already been sacrificed for the sake of collective progress through their energy production activities. They stand to be sacrificed anew if their majoritarian-encouraged dependency relationships are ignored in the transition to clean energy, as state and federal policy drivers continue to curtail or undermine these communities’ economic activities in the name of collective progress.[182]

While the majority’s willingness to destroy coal communities’ dependency relationships is not a “takings,” it nonetheless raises the prospect of a discrete minority being sacrificed for “the greater good”—an approach to progress that legal ethicists have considered at best morally questionable.[183] Indeed, when federal legislators passed provisions of the Trade Act of 1974 to offset displacement caused by reduced restrictions on trade,[184] one decisionmaker reasoned, “much as the doctrine of eminent domain requires compensation when private property is taken for public use,” increased fair trade required compensation to displaced workers.[185] “Otherwise the costs of a federal policy [of free trade] that conferred benefits on the nation as a whole would be imposed on a minority of American workers.”[186]

It might be suggested that Appalachia and other carbon-dependent communities are not unique in their situation. Workers in the United States are often displaced and left vulnerable for a variety of reasons including changes in technology, new trade regimes, other policy developments, or the absence of legal protections.[187] This comparison is worthwhile. The story of Appalachia, while unique in some respects, shares many analogies, as with tenants and sharecroppers who were displaced by the mechanization of the cotton harvest, plant employees who lost manufacturing jobs when businesses moved overseas, and aerospace workers who were displaced during the 1990s with the end of the cold war, to name some examples.[188] The question becomes one of drawing lines. Where takings analyses stop, economic transitions begin. We ask people to bear the costs of the latter, not the former, and by not recognizing property interests in work,[189] we disfavor the property-less in decisions as to who receives compensation.[190]

This line-drawing may make sense. Otherwise, it could become cost-prohibitive to pass new laws. Yet certain factors weigh in favor of contemplating either more effective transitional policies or more robust baseline protections for workers and communities. First, as technology continues to evolve and render more work obsolete, the future will be replete with ongoing displacement.[191] As more and more people and professions are displaced, it seems unrealistic to assume that the supply of work will match the demand for it. Second, the egregious ramifications of the transition away from coal indicate that asking those workers and communities to bear the losses, adapt, and relocate has simply not worked for a substantial segment of those communities. While such a proposed allocation of losses may make sense in theory, in practice, the result has been poverty, deaths of despair, and regional stagnation.[192]

To be clear, none of this discussion is intended to suggest that deep decarbonization should not be pursued as swiftly and effectively as possible. The question of livelihoods should not hold the broader community hostage to the dire fate associated with a failure to reduce carbon emissions adequately.[193] This is also not a call for some form of reparations, especially considering other communities, such as indigenous populations and the descendants of slaves, whose under-acknowledged exploitation also fueled national wealth in even more dire ways. The argument is rather that fossil fuel communities have already borne loss after loss to the benefit of others. To ask them to bear yet another disproportionate loss in the clean-energy transition on behalf of the rest of society would be to effectuate yet another distributive injustice. In other words, these communities should not be forgotten in the decarbonization calculus. They deserve a just transition.

C.  A Political Economy Theory of Just Transitions

This Section explores a pragmatic and strategic argument in favor of embracing the just transition concept. In short, the United States is in urgent need of environmental and climate policy reform at the federal, state, and local levels.[194] Reform is often unachievable, however, because of entrenched political obstacles.[195] This Section argues that the pursuit of law and policy informed by just transitions principles may be more achievable than more traditional modes of seeking environmental reform.

Most scholars now agree that environmental reform had a zenith of sorts, and that the zenith has passed.[196] The late 1960s and early 1970s saw the passage of the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act, the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act, and the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act.[197] Still today, these major federal statutes make up the foundation of the environmental legal apparatus. The reforms largely came out of a national social movement.[198] Reacting to works such as Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring[199] and the incident of the Cuyahoga River catching fire,[200] the public realized that their welfare in part depended upon some measure of environmental protection.[201]

Sporadic successes have been achieved since the peak of environmental reform. As recently as 1993, Daniel Farber observed how environmentalism’s successes undermined the idea that interest groups could warp governmental policy through lobbying.[202] He explained:

[A]ir pollution legislation benefits millions of people by providing them with clean air; it also imposes heavy costs on concentrated groups of firms. The theory predicts that the firms will organize much more effectively than the individuals, and will thereby block the legislation. We would also expect to find little regulation of other forms of pollution. Similarly, we would also expect firms to block legislation limiting their access to public lands. Thus, the two basic predictions are that environmental groups will not organize effectively and that environmental statutes will not be passed.[203]

Yet Farber concluded that “the reality is quite different.”[204] “Environmental groups manage to organize quite effectively. . . . . Nor, obviously, is there any dearth of federal environmental legislation.”[205] He thus argued that “the political system manages to overcome the inherent advantages of special interests.”[206]

A more recent article by the same author recognizes a largely different status quo, however. In his 2017 article, The Conservative as Environmentalist, Farber recognizes that interest groups do indeed now stand in the way of environmental reform.[207] He suggests that conservatives’ shift away from moderate environmental sympathies over the past several decades can be explained by the “emergence of a coalition of disaffected westerners and business interests (particularly in the fossil-fuel industry) supported by an interlocking network of foundations, donors, and conservative-policy advocates.”[208]

A movement does exist today that is not all that different from the environmental movement of the 1960s and 70s.[209] Much of the American public is deeply concerned about climate change.[210] The movements for climate reform and related principles, such as climate justice and energy justice, use activism, litigation, and lobbying to pursue much-needed changes.[211] Many successes have been achieved.[212] Most commentators concede, however, that progress to date has simply been inadequate to ward off the disastrous effects of climate change.[213]

Anti-environmental forces today seem to have become more powerful than in prior eras.[214] The fossil fuel industry manages to undermine the environmental movement even at the grassroots level.[215] Pat McGinley describes, for example, the so-called “War on Coal” campaign, a massive, industry-financed public relations effort “buttressed by think-tank studies” that has successfully fueled public antipathy toward environmental regulations.[216] According to sociologists Bell and York, despite its waning contributions to the economy and employment, the fossil fuel industry manages to “gain[] compliance from substantial segments of the public” by “actively construct[ing] ideology that furthers its interests.”[217]

As the fossil fuel industry and conservative politicians have joined forces, labor and workers’ groups have often sided with them.[218] According to sociologist Brian Obach, “workers are not typically the lead opponents of environmental measures.”[219] Rather, industry executives recruit workers with the threat of layoffs or total shutdowns of operations. In addition, as “a threat to corporate profits” is not particularly concerning to the public, workers also become the more sympathetic faces of environmental opposition.[220]

Commentators have observed the largely untapped potential of collaboration between environmental and labor groups. The longstanding “work-environment” rift often puzzles scholars.[221] While jobs-versus-environment tensions serve to divide the two camps, other areas seem like they should be unifying—for instance, workplace safety, shared concerns about basic human needs, and as Doorey observes, the fact that both fields serve as checks on what would otherwise be “unbridled” corporate activity.[222]

One explanation for the rift is environmentalism’s association with the middle class and upper middle class. In its early days, the environmental movement was spurred in large part based on a philosophy embracing a veneration for nature.[223] As one activist articulates,

environmental heroes like John Muir, Teddy Roosevelt, and Aldo Leopold—and the romanticizing of wilderness through art, poetry, essays, and music—created a catalyst for men to see communing with nature as a way of defining their manhood. Exploration, solitude, and game hunting became the foundation for saving and preserving nature. But for whom was nature being saved?[224]

As the activist suggests, this philosophy arguably disregards the needs of society’s less privileged ranks, for instance, by failing to prioritize issues such as immediate access to clean drinking water, or being overly dismissive of livelihoods that depend on natural resources.[225] Pruitt and Sobczynski have argued, for example, that poor, white rural residents may be seen as “trash[ing] pristine nature by their very presence.”[226]

Yet, in the instances when labor and environmental groups have combined their efforts, these efforts have proven quite potent. Many attribute the passage of the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act to a coalition between workers and environmental organizations.[227] A prior article, Alienation and Reconciliation in Social-Ecological Systems, examined the fruitfulness of collaborative partnerships between ranchers and bird conservationists on public lands.[228]

Compared with the fossil fuel industry, then, the modern environmental movement has two problems: (1) a power problem and (2) a branding problem. Pursuing more aggressive, concerted appeals to labor interests could help address both of these problems.

The power problem is evidenced in the modern environmental movement’s inability to penetrate the thick web of interest groups that benefit from impeding climate reform and other environmental measures.[229] The political process is indeed “dominated by the rent-seeking activities of specialinterest groups.”[230] Naturally, coalitions and alliances stand to fare better than interest groups that work alone. While outreach to the fossil fuel industry may involve mere tilting at windmills given the industry’s track record,[231] labor and environments’ overlapping interests may have more potential to give climate advocates more allies and leverage.

But further, joining forces with workers’ advocates could also help the environmental movement win more hearts and minds. As an example of why the branding of environmental reform matters, many conservatives said in one public opinion poll that they opposed the Obama administration’s Clean Power Plan because they thought it would cost people jobs.[232] If the environmental movement addressed the jobs concern directly and in coordination with labor advocates—which they could do by lobbying for reform through the lens of the just transition—they could proactively address one of the arguments against environmental reform.

A potential concern in addressing work and labor more directly in environmental advocacy is that such efforts could result in sustaining livelihoods in hazardous industries and delaying much-needed environmental action. However, as discussed below, it is not necessarily contemplated that just transitions law and policy must entail actually sustaining hazardous industries; the more important principle is instead attempting to offset or mitigate some of the losses to livelihoods and communities as those industries’ activities are curtailed. Further, even if some compromises were to be made, it is worth considering whether the movement risks letting the perfect be the enemy of the good, and whether compromise outcomes may still be preferable to substantively preferable outcomes indefinitely delayed by political obstacles.[233]

III.  Just Transitions as Law: Filling in the Contours

This Part asks what are perhaps the most challenging questions surrounding the prospect of embracing just transitions in law and policy: What, exactly, does a just transition look like? Who deserves a just transition? What are the avenues for achieving it?

A helpful starting point is the fact that the pursuit of just transitions is not entirely alien to United States law and policy. This Part therefore starts in Section III.A with a brief summary and critique of four of the most prominent instances when federal institutions have authorized transitional policy to address worker and community displacement: (1) the Trade Act of 1974 providing assistance to manufacturing workers displaced by reduced restrictions on trade; (2) the President’s Northwest Forest Plan providing assistance to timber communities displaced by reductions in timbering on public lands; (3) the Tobacco Transition Payment Program assisting tobacco farmers displaced by public litigation against tobacco companies in the 1990s; and (4) the Obama administration’s Partnerships for Opportunity and Workforce and Economic Revitalization (POWER) Initiative assisting coalfield communities in the face of coal’s decline.

Interestingly, only two of the programs—the Forest Plan and POWER—have an explicit environmental component. This suggests that in practice, the understanding of just transitions has not been simply as a corollary to environmental progress. Rather, the consistent conditions among these scenarios are (1) a dependency relationship between a community and an industry that is (2) undermined by some public action, or perhaps in the case of coal, public inaction. Section III.B therefore also explores other, non-environmental scenarios where just transitions may be warranted, such as the example of New York City taxi drivers being displaced by ride-sharing services, or of longstanding community residents facing displacement by gentrification. Section III.B also revisits the argument that the line between economic and legal transitions is often blurrier than some might suggest, indicating that a scenario should not necessarily require a clear act of direct public complicity in order to trigger a just transition.

Section III.C discusses instances of locally-driven approaches to just transitions and posits that these examples offer important insights alongside the federal programs, particularly since the federal programs have, as a whole, not been considered particularly successful (while the effects of the POWER Initiative remain to be seen as of this writing). Local land use planning processes and similar mechanisms help account for the complex, interconnecting factors that shape mono-economies’ dependency relationships. They thus may have benefits to offer as an alternative or complement to the standard practice of using federal agencies to implement transitional policy.

Finally, Section III.D offers additional thoughts as to how and when just transitions should be pursued and who should pay for them. Yet this discussion again raises the question of whether transitional policy is the answer for worker and community vulnerability in the face of climate change or in other contexts, or whether more robust baseline protections may be the simpler, more efficient approach. This latter approach may also be the fairer, more inclusive one, in that transitional policy directs resources to workers who are losing “good jobs,” while other workers, particularly disproportionate numbers of women and people of color in the service industry, have benefited inequitably from such jobs in the first place.

A.  Federal Transitional Policies

1.  The Trade Act of 1974

The Trade Act of 1962 established the Trade Adjustment Assistance Program (TAA), while the Trade Act of 1974 gave birth to the modern program still operational today.[234] The program has become a quid pro quo component of modern trade policy. That is, in order to open more trade avenues, more trade assistance for injured domestic workers is often a necessary political compensatory measure.[235]

Crafted in the name of fairness, the program’s goal is to provide aid to workers who lose their jobs, hours of work, or wages because of increases in imports.[236] Congress was “of the view that fairness demanded some mechanism whereby the national public, which realizes an overall gain through trade readjustments, can compensate the particular . . . workers who suffer a loss . . . .[237] Returning to the idea that certain forms of displacement are ethically similar to takings, even if not cognizable as such in law, a federal court observed that TAA was pursued in as “much as the doctrine of eminent domain requires compensation when private property is taken for public use. Otherwise the costs of a federal policy [of free trade] that conferred benefits on the nation as a whole would be imposed on a minority of American workers . . . .[238]

Individuals eligible under the program may file a petition to the U.S. Department of Labor within one year of losing work.[239] Once certified, workers are then eligible to apply for TAA program benefits, which are administered through state agencies.[240] The benefits include “weekly cash benefits, job retraining, and allowances for job searches or relocation.”[241] “According to [2011] White House statistics, the average worker receiving benefits is a 46 year-old male with a high school education who is the primary breadwinner for his family and has worked for at least ten years at a factory that is closing.”[242]

Since the program’s inception, however, studies have shown that trade adjustment benefits have simply not gone far enough to compensate displaced workers for their losses. In one survey of displaced shoe workers in the 1970s, researchers concluded that

even if benefits were granted to a larger number of workers, each individual would be compensated for only a very small portion of his actual loss. The actual payments have been characterized by organized labor as band-aid treatment, because the subsequent wage loss as well as the many nonmonetary losses from displacement are not directly addressed.[243]

 More recently, economist Lori Kletzer found that almost forty percent of displaced workers did not find new jobs within one to two years after a job loss resulting from increased competition.[244] Another economist described trade assistance programs as “a collection of ad hoc, out-of-date, and inadequate programs that provide too little assistance too late to those in need.”[245] Legal scholars—who tend to treat TAA as a component of international trade law—have also critiqued trade adjustment assistance programs. Some deem TAA “a grave failure,” for reasons including “failures at the administrative and state levels, to Federal incompetence, to lack of resources and outreach for displaced workers,” as well as the inadequacy of judicial review available for workers unfairly denied assistance.[246] Its flaws notwithstanding, many agree that the program is preferable to not offering assistance at all and that reforms may stand to improve it.[247]

2.  The President’s Northwest Forest Plan

The President’s Northwest Forest Plan (NWFP) was formed in the aftermath of a 1992 decision in which the U.S. District Court for the Western District of Washington imposed an injunction prohibiting over 66,000 acres of timber from being harvested on Washington public lands because of dangers the harvesting posed to the northern spotted owl.[248] The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld this and a series of related decisions.[249] The Clinton administration then developed the NWFP, aimed toward enhancing conservation in the region. In 1994, the Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management adopted the NWFP.[250]

The circumstances surrounding the NWFP’s enactment were famously contentious.[251] This scenario is at times considered a classic case study of “jobs versus environment.” Timber harvesters were outraged based on the perception that the habitat of a single species should wield such an impact on their livelihoods. Predictions of “economic devastation” followed the court decisions, with fears of “a new ‘Appalachia in the Northwest.’”[252] Environmentalists, meanwhile, saw the decisions as a necessary conservation win.

The economic concerns were not fictional. According to one commentator, “[n]o economic analysis [could] ignore the suffering of some rural communities, which [bore] the brunt of the economic pain associated with reduced federally subsidized timber supplies.”[253] When the injunction issued, it threw “between 60,000 and 100,000 people out of work.”[254] The NWFP sought to address some of this pain:

[It] extend[ed] assistance to workers and communities, payments to counties to compensate for reduced income, removal of tax incentives for the export of raw logs, and assistance to encourage growth and investment of small businesses and secondary manufacturing. Similarly, the Economic Adjustment Initiative . . . provided over $550 million to aid communities and individuals affected by reduced timber harvests.[255]

The NWFP also illustrates the causal complexity of factors that influence regional decline. Because of automation, “many jobs in the federally subsidized timber industry were on their way out long before the owl was listed as threatened under the Endangered Species Act.”[256] Generally, “rural areas dependent on the federal land-based timber industry” were not faring as well as other regions as of the 1990s.[257] Nonetheless, federal actors saw fit to intervene in this scenario involving mixed technological, economic, and legal factors contributing to the decline.[258]

The NWFP “never truly satisfied the warring factions, the timber industry and the environmentalists.”[259] However, it was considered an achievement for the Clinton administration.[260] Much analysis of the NWFP’s implementation has focused on its ecological successes. Yet, in all, “the NWFP has been more successful in stopping actions thought to be harmful to conservation . . . than it has been in promoting active restoration and adaptive management and in implementing economic and social policies set out under the plan.”[261]

The NWFP provided for “payments to timber-dependent counties suffering from cutbacks” due to the law’s implementation in 2000.[262] Since the NWFP’s implementation, counties formerly dependent on timber harvests for tax revenues have received millions of dollars.[263] Today, many of these counties are considered to be “in crisis” because of curtailments in direct federal subsidies.[264] The NWFP was criticized as failing to “provide long-term economic growth and security” for former timber counties.[265]

3.  The Tobacco Transition Payment Program

The tobacco industry has several unique quirks, but the parallels between the tobacco industry and the fossil fuel industry are notable. Both industries have invested aggressively in science-denial and public relations initiatives, both have rendered entire communities dependent upon them, and both have seen major shifts in public awareness contribute to their decline.[266] In addition to increased anti-tobacco sentiment and knowledge of health risks among the public, a mass tort action against tobacco companies in the 1990s brought them to the brink of extinction—which perhaps signifies a parallel to ongoing climate-related litigation against fossil fuel companies.[267]

Because of the economic hardships associated with decreased tobacco demand and government pushback against the tobacco industry, in the late 1990s, a settlement between states and large tobacco companies provided for billions of dollars of economic assistance to be paid to tobacco farmers.[268] The ten-year Tobacco Transition Payment Program (TTPP) was created to “ease tobacco farmers’ worries” and give them “time to diversify their crop to include other commodities separate from tobacco, or to allow [them] . . . to cease planting tobacco altogether.”[269] The TTPP also terminated a federal price-fixing program that had supported tobacco farmers since the 1930s.[270]

The TTPP is often referred to as a “buy-out” program.[271]  However, the term is somewhat misleading because farmers were not necessarily paid to stop growing tobacco.[272] Tobacco producers received government assistance by signing up for the TTPP through the U.S. Department of Agriculture Commodity Credit Corporation, which “provide[d] payments to tobacco quota holders who voluntarily enter[ed] into appropriate contracts with the government”[273]—including for the cessation of tobacco production.[274] The TTPP provided eligible producers with ten equal annual payments “designed to transition tobacco producers into a free market for their produce.”[275]

 The program’s effects were mixed and may be the subject of debate. The number of tobacco farmers was reduced dramatically just after deregulation was implemented.[276] Each participating farmer received on average a total of approximately $17,000 over the course of the program, while 75% of payments went to the top ten percent of farms.[277] Some have suggested that these payments offered important “injections of cash” for struggling rural communities.[278] On the other hand, the program may have had the effect of shackling some farmers to their crops involuntarily, as many were “unable to break free of the cycle of debt” associated with restructured relationships.[279] Some farmers, in response to the program, actually expanded their production of tobacco.[280]

 The TTPP model may have some lessons to offer just transitions law and policy. The fact that the TTPP helped transition workers and communities away from a production activity that had been publicly subsidized for decades, with minimal public attention or controversy, seems like a success. At the very least, the TTPP recognized that the political majority was complicit in fostering farmers’ dependency on the hazardous activity through national legislative intervention since the 1930s, and complicit in undermining that dependency relationship.

On the other hand, the TTPP model’s slow-sunsetting approach may stand in direct tension with the urgency associated with decarbonization. It also seemed to rely somewhat on tobacco farmers’ capacity for autonomous decisionmaking over their own production activities, which may not apply to many other scenarios or address regional economic dependencies with necessary robustness.

4.  The POWER Initiative

In 2016, the Obama administration announced a nearly forty million dollar program for twenty economic and workforce development projects to assist communities affected by changes in the coal and power industry.[281] The POWER Initiative was a joint effort involving ten federal agencies with the goal of either creating or retaining several thousand jobs, in addition to broader economic development, such as economic diversification, attracting new sources of investment, and providing workforce services and skills training. Through the POWER Initiative, the Appalachian Regional Commission (ARC) and other agencies have received over $100 million in appropriations to assist displaced coal workers.[282]

For instance, the ARC alone has received $50 million from Congress since 2016 in order to:

target federal resources to help communities and regions that have been affected by job losses in coal mining, coal power plant operations, and coal-related supply chain industries due to the changing economics of America’s energy production. To date, ARC has invested $94 million in projects serving 250 coal impacted counties. These projects are expected to create or retain 8,800 jobs, train 25,400 workers or students, and leverage an additional $210 million to the Region.[283]              

ARC receives applications for funding from local governments, states, other political subdivisions, non-profit organizations, and institutions of higher education.[284] As of this writing, little commentary has assessed the program’s outcomes. The proposed POWER Plus Plan, meanwhile, focused on more direct assistance to workers; yet it and similar proposals have failed to make their way through Congress.[285]

B.  Synthesizing Federal Transitional Policies

Several themes emerge from the programs above. These themes illuminate the conditions that have been considered appropriate for triggering intervention in pursuit of a just transition. These programs’ strengths and weaknesses in design and implementation can also inform future efforts.

The first theme is that policymakers have implemented transitional policy when there is foreseeable, widespread displacement to workers as the result of some form of public action. Embedded in the foreseeable displacement is the existence of some kind of dependency relationship or longstanding regional mono-economy. This theme may explain why transitional support beyond unemployment benefits is not specifically provided when a sector like Blockbuster goes out of business: unlike with each of the sectors above, there are no company towns or regions where substantial portions of the population have been employed at Blockbuster for decades.

Critically, though, the programs do not require some sort of showing that a loss is the proximate result of an intentional public act. In fact, the Trade Act of 1974 specifically undid such a requirement imposed by the 1962 Act. The 1962 Act required that increased imports were the “major cause” of beneficiaries’ unemployment.[286] Yet it became clear shortly thereafter that most workers simply would not be able to meet such a burden.[287] One reason for the absence of a causality requirement is that economic and legal transitions in the United States are fundamentally entangled. Further, the absence of regulations may affect transitions in similar ways as the creation of regulations. As discussed above, commentators often point to the cheapness of natural gas as the “real” reason for the coal industry’s decline; yet Congress could easily have chosen to regulate natural gas more stringently or otherwise intervene into energy markets.

One weakness, at least with the NWFP and TAA, is that neither is considered to have achieved successful economic mitigation in the face of the loss being addressed. One reason for this may be that directing large aid packages to benefits such as relocation assistance will inevitably be a “band-aid” approach if those packages do not address the root cause of workers’ and communities’ vulnerability. The root cause is the development of the dependency relationship or mono-economy in the first place. In this sense, it is possible that federal actors—unless they create a New Deal-style form of transitional employment themselves—may be too detached from regional realities to meaningfully reshape a region. Similarly, the very nature of these programs may reflect a “too little, too late” approach to addressing longstanding histories of regional under-investment. The TTPP may have been more successful in part because many tobacco farmers were near retirement anyway, few depended solely on tobacco-farming income, and tobacco farmers may have been better able to exercise control over their own economic activities as compared to laid-off manufacturing or timber workers.[288]

The second problem with these programs is that as jobs like timbering and mining decline, no comparably lucrative, low-skill jobs are, in fact, available as alternatives for displaced workers. The three main traditional rural livelihoods—natural resource extraction, manufacturing, and farming—have declined dramatically.[289] The sectors that have taken their place are lower-paying positions in the service industry.[290] These positions lack the security, culture, and regional influence of the traditional livelihoods. Transitional policy geared toward moving a worker from a traditional livelihood to a modern one will almost inevitably be moving that worker a step down in the world of work. In turn, the region may be fated to suffer, as each individual experiences a loss in wages and security, effectuating ripple effects on local tax coffers.

The POWER Initiative does align with this Article’s theoretical discussion of how a just transition should be defined. The program’s focus on diverse forms of regional stakeholders and initiatives may make it better poised to succeed than programs focused more heavily on one approach, such as worker retraining or providing direct subsidies to local governments. Yet it is not clear that POWER is adequate to address the likely-intensified losses anticipated to be associated with deep decarbonization.

In any case, these programs indicate that circumstances triggering just transitions are not limited to what is arguably the perfect case study of the coalfield community. The case of the New York City taxi drivers illustrates yet another scenario where workers formed a longstanding dependency relationship with one industry; their industry performed a quasi-public function; and the public’s failure to act left the workers vulnerable to an abrupt collapse of their industry, leaving them without meaningful alternatives. As with manufacturing or mining jobs, taxi drivers, once part of a lucrative, regulated community, were suddenly in competition with options that were cheaper, faster, and less secure in the form of app-directed ride-sharing services.[291] Many drivers had invested their life savings in coveted taxi medallions, the value of which dropped dramatically due to the rise of Uber and Lyft. Six driver suicides over the course of six months in 2018 brought the City’s attention to this community’s struggle.[292] As of this writing, “New York’s city council is poised to approve a one-year cap on new licenses for Uber . . . and other ride-sharing vehicles as part of a sweeping package of regulations intended to reduce traffic and halt the downward slide in drivers’ pay.”[293]

Just transitions considerations also seem relevant to communities displaced by gentrification. In those instances, the community has developed a dependency relationship on an existing way of life. This way of life could have relied, in fact, on a history of under-investment, the absence of industry, or a mix of industries that are not necessarily lucrative. When more lucrative industries arrive to take advantage of that history of under-investment—bringing with them wealthier residents and higher home and goods prices—political inaction in the face of the communities’ vulnerability to displacement may be an analogous version of an unjust transition.[294]

The next Section looks at alternatives, or potential complements, to federal aid packages in transitional programs. It posits that locally-driven transitions may stand to more meaningfully untangle the diverse issues at play in a mono-economy or dependency relationship. This more intimate process could in turn wield more benefits in shaping regional economic fates.

C.  Locally-Driven Transitions

Alan Ramo and Deborah Behles examined the experience of Navajo and Hopi communities with the Mohave Generating Station along the Nevada-Arizona border in the late 1990s and early 2000s.[295] Their case study provides an illustration of a scenario in which local actors addressed the impending cessation of hazardous industrial activity that a community also depended upon economically.

The U.S. Department of the Interior decided in the early nineteenth century that the Mohave Station would receive its coal and water from nearby Hopi and Navajo reservations.[296] This decision commenced a longstanding exploitative relationship that gave Native groups little control over their coal and water resources.[297] For years, both Hopi and Navajo tribes advocated to set aside the original decree, protesting highly undervalued royalties they received for use of their coal and water.[298] Yet the communities also depended on the royalties, as well as the fact that about 250 Navajo were employed at Mohave’s mine.[299]

In 1998, two environmental groups sued Mohave’s owners, alleging violations of Clean Air Act emissions limits, compliance orders, and reporting requirements; simultaneously, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency concluded that the plant posed a risk to visibility in the Grand Canyon.[300] Thus began the transition toward the closure of the Mohave Plant, which risked leaving the native communities in even worse circumstances than before, despite the closure’s likely environmental benefits.

The Mohave plant was closed in 2006.[301] It was not closed because of environmental hazards, but because it was no longer cost-effective—which again raises the question of untangling the causal factors that trigger the need for a just transition. The communities were “devastated by Mohave’s operation,” but also devastated by its closure.[302]

Issues concerning the plant arose in another proceeding around the same time, however, where Mohave’s former owner, Southern California Edison, was involved in a rate case with the California Public Utilities Commission (CPUC).[303] Local groups formed an organization called the “Just Transition Coalition” in order to intervene in the proceeding. The coalition was an alliance of environmental and grassroots Native American interests including the Indigenous Environmental Network, Black Mesa Trust, Black Mesa Water coalition, To’ Nizhoni Ani, Grand Canyon Trust, and the Sierra Club.”[304] The coalition intervened “to demand that the CPUC allocate funds from the sale of Acid Rain SO2 allowances, which were an unneeded windfall if Mohave remained closed, to help transition the Hopi and Navajo communities to cleaner energy alternatives.”[305] The group emphasized that a transition that invested in the communities “was equitable due to Mohave’s operation and closure’s devastating economic and social impacts and decades of . . . subsidized cheap coal power.”[306] The CPUC then ordered Mohave’s former owner to set aside acid rain allowances to be disbursed in the future.[307]

The process of transitioning the communities away from their dependency relationship with the plant involved “years of mediation, workshops, and litigation,” which resulted in the Hopi and Navajo agreeing with the Just Transition Coalition that revenues should be used to incentivize renewable energy generation.[308] The CPUC, relying on its authority to “exercise equitable jurisdiction as an incident to its express duties” to regulate utilities in its jurisdiction, as well as California’s Renewable Portfolio Standard, decided “to disburse the allowance revenues to incentivize renewable generation that benefited Hopi and Navajo communities.”[309]

While the procedural evolution of this case study may appear to be a unique or idiosyncratic approach to a just transition, it offers lessons for pursuing just transitions elsewhere. Ramo and Behles argued that this scenario “presents a roadmap for other states to consider creative solutions to help communities transition away from fossil-fuel generation.”[310] As of this writing, many commentators seem to view the Mohave transition as a success story.[311]

The Mohave process in fact mirrors several procedural models that can be embodied in law and policy in different ways. First, it resembles new governance. According to new governance theory, diverse stakeholders must be involved in decisionmaking, where traditional networks and hierarchies are emphasized less, and the exchange of information and pursuit of win-win solutions are emphasized more.[312] More traditionally, though, this process resembles land use planning processes, which also involve bringing stakeholders together to pursue collaborative decisionmaking.[313] Administrative law and policy can provide for mechanisms that facilitate communities’ ability to pursue these processes.

Diverse local and state jurisdictions in the United States and internationally are in the process of approaching transitions in different ways. In 2008, the State of Kentucky passed a tax incentive to attract new employers to the region.[314] The struggling coal town of Hazard, Kentucky, has developed a former surface mine site into a research and testing facility for drone companies, while also offering new skills courses through the local community college.[315] The Canadian province of Alberta has earmarked $40 million to help approximately 2,000 workers, who are “losing their jobs as the province transitions away from thermal coal mines and coal-fired power plants over the next decade,” by providing “tuition vouchers, retraining programs, and on-site transitioning advice.”[316] These varying approaches indicate that the ideal model for pursuing a just transition may be context-specific. At least, as much of the global community seeks to transition to low-carbon energy emissions in the coming years, more success stories and replicable models should emerge.

The Mohave study suggests that certain conditions may be conducive to a more transformative transition than an approach focused more narrowly on a measure such as worker retraining. These conditions include equal bargaining power among stakeholders, stakeholders with adequate resources, and a procedural mechanism to pursue a long-term decisionmaking or dispute resolution process. An effort toward transition that is more transformative also must involve some iterative decisionmaking—the “messiness” often associated with successful stakeholder collaboration—rather than single instances of legislative reform. Appropriate venues could be state, local, or federal administrative agencies, local governments, and courts.

The Mohave study also shows how a just transitions policy can, and often should, be pursued in tandem with remedies for a history of environmental injustice. Many communities that depend upon high-carbon industries have also been harmed by them; many communities harmed by high-carbon industries have not benefited economically at all. Yet the choice of remedy does not pose an “either/or” choice between remedying environmental injustice or remedying just transitions. A holistic, democratic process can account for both past harms and future risks.

D.  Additional Considerations for Pursuing Just Transitions

A pressing question in the pursuit of just transitions policy is, who pays for just transitions? More specifically, why should the public pay and not the employers who have left these regions and workers vulnerable?

The discussion in this Article is primarily concerned with public options for facilitating collective transitions. It is presumed that employers will often not be in a position to facilitate just transitions themselves. First—consistent with the above-mentioned concerns about interest groups—accountability for fossil fuel companies has been elusive.[317] Congress has virtually declined to regulate the natural gas industry, for example.[318] Second, many employers have become insolvent, as evidenced by the spate of coal companies that have filed for bankruptcy in recent years.[319]

Nonetheless, future research should address the prospect of employer involvement in just transitions law and policy, especially where employers have knowingly pursued hazardous industrial activity to society’s detriment. In addition to tobacco companies’ involvement in funding the TTPP program described in Section III.A.3, a starting point for this consideration would be the federal Worker Adjustment and Retraining Notification Act of 1988 (the WARN Act).

The WARN Act “was enacted in 1988 in response to the rash of plant closings and layoffs that had occurred in the immediately preceding years.”[320] It sought “to enable workers, their families, and local community leaders sufficient time to prepare for mass layoffs or plant closures.”[321] It “obligates employers to provide at least 60-days notice to employees and local government officials of a covered plant closure or mass layoff.”[322] The Act covers employers who plan to lay off fifty or more employees during any thirty-day period, excluding part-time employees.

The WARN Act has been heavily criticized. Not only does it do little for workers and communities beyond providing a strikingly brief notice period before entire communities may be upended, but it also was deemed “imprecise, vague, difficult to interpret, and . . . may be very difficult to apply sensibly to particular fact situations.”[323] But the idea could be helpful. Perhaps a modernized WARN Act of just transitions law and policy would require six to twelve months’ notice and options for assisting workers to retrain and relocate, for example.

Finally, perhaps the real concern underlying the justice or injustice of transitions is not about transitions at all. Measures such as guaranteed employment or universal basic income, for example, would preclude the need to manufacture new regional or sectoral economies in anticipation of the ebb and flow of industries. A more robust baseline of worker and community support would make the vulnerability associated with transitions less dire and help preclude difficult decisions as to who should win and lose in the distribution of benefits and burdens.

Conclusion

In the context of climate change, legal scholars should embrace the just transition as an equitable principle of easing the burden decarbonization poses to workers and communities who depend on carbon-heavy industries. Embracing this definition will be clarifying, will allow legal scholarship to engage with other fields and institutions that already recognize this definition, and will give the labor movement its due for originating the term. In turn, the concept finds support in important principles relevant to the environmental condition today, such as the need to account for complex social-ecological systems, to address jobs-versus-environment tensions, and to better consider economic equity. In short, if scholars and policymakers embrace the just transition concept, it stands to serve principles of economic equity, it might help make climate reform more achievable through coalition-building, and it is poised to bring environmental law more in line with the needs of the climate era.

Yet the just transition concept bears relevance to diverse scenarios where workers and communities face large-scale displacement from the longstanding industries on which they have relied. The moral impetus to help in the face of displacement may be the strongest where a public initiative is the clear cause of the displacement. This scenario is the most analogous to the state’s use of eminent domain, where the “taking” of something is compensated because a discrete group is not asked to bear the costs of an initiative pursued for the greater good. While one might suggest that workers and communities should bear the costs of such displacement as the natural price of regulation, U.S. transitional policy illustrates prominent instances where Congress was compelled to intervene.

The cause of displacement is often unclear, however. Our economic and legal evolutions tend to be intertwined. Thus, transitional policy may still be warranted where the cause of the displacement is less clear than the obvious, and relatively rare, “job-killing” law. Further, even if purely private forces caused large-scale displacement, considerations of fairness, compassion, and equity suggest it is the wrong choice to simply leave workers in the lurch where they lack other alternatives, or where their work contributed a public or quasi-public function—especially if, as Mazzocchi articulated and as is the case with fossil fuel workers, that work was particularly hazardous. This calculus does yield inherent problems with line-drawing. As an alternative, measures such as universal basic income or other provisions of a more robust social safety net could preclude the need to pick winners and losers in these scenarios.

Given federal agencies’ track record of failing to sustainably untangle regional dependency relationships, to adequately offset workers’ and communities’ losses, or to nurture forward-looking economic diversification for regions and sectors in decline, it may be time to question whether federal agencies are indeed the most appropriate forum for large-scale transitional policy. It is possible that the largely-untested POWER Initiative uses novel substantive approaches that may not repeat the mistakes of past policies. Processes driven by state and local institutions and stakeholders may allow for a more involved, context-specific approach that can help better address the challenges associated with historical mono-economies. Additional research can help illuminate the best mechanisms for achieving just transitions in practice, especially as the clean-energy transition gains momentum. Perhaps most importantly, when environmental decisions are made, just transitions can and should be among values decisionmakers seek to harmonize.

 


[*] *.. Assistant Professor of Law, University of South Carolina School of Law. I thank Lauren Aronson, Derek Black, Josh Eagle, Katherine Garvey, Joy Radice, Ed Richards, Kathryn Sabbeth, Emily Suski, Gavin Wright, and participants at the 2018 Texas A&M University School of Law’s Property Roundtable and the 2018 Just Transitions Workshop at the University of South Carolina School of Law for their thoughtful feedback on this project.

 [1]. Cf. Ann Eisenberg, Civil Society Versus Transnational Corporations in International Energy Development: Is International Law Keeping Up?, in China and Good Governance of Markets in Light of Economic Development 27 (Paolo Davide Farah ed., Routledge Pub., forthcoming 2019) (on file with author) (arguing that civil liberties may be sacrificed in the name of clean-energy development projects).

 [2]. While this Article refers to “low-carbon” policy goals, these goals are assumed to also contemplate other greenhouse gas emissions with similar effects relating to climate change. The discussion focuses on carbon both for the sake of succinctness and because of carbon’s prominence among the greenhouse gases as a driver of climate change.

 [3]. See Ngram Viewer: Just Transition, Google Books, https://books.google.com/ngrams
/graph?content=just+transition&year_start=1800&year_end=2017&corpus=15&smoothing=3&share=&direct_url=t1%3B%2Cjust%20transition%3B%2Cc0 (last visited Jan. 25, 2019) (searching for the frequency of the use of the term “just transition”).

 [4]. Cf. Dimitris Stevis & Romain Felli, Green Transitions, Just Transitions? Broadening and Deepening Justice, 3 Kurswechsel 35, 35 (2016) (Ger.) (“In short, there are varieties of Just Transition, reflecting the politics of its various advocates.”).

 [5]. See infra Section I.A.

 [6]. See Peter Newell & Dustin Mulvaney, The Political Economy of the ‘Just Transition’, 179 Geographical J. 132, 132–33 (2013) (discussing inequality and fossil fuel usage).

 [7]. See Mark Swilling & Eve Annecke, Just Transitions: Explorations of Sustainability in an Unfair World, 50–52 (2012); Victor B. Flatt & Heather Payne, Not One Without the Other: The Challenge of Integrating U.S. Environment, Energy, Climate, and Economic Policy, 44 Envtl. L. 1079, 1085 (2014) (discussing financial harms climate change has already posed to world economies and vulnerable populations). As an example, some scholarship has raised concerns about increased reliance on biofuels as a renewable energy source because of their potential to harm vulnerable populations—which would illustrate an unjust transition to renewables according to this definition. See, e.g., Nadia B. Ahmad, Blood Biofuels, 27 Duke Envtl. L. & Pol’y Forum 265, 282–94 (2017) (discussing impacts on small farmers and poor consumers in developing countries); Carmen G. Gonzalez, The Environmental Justice Implications of Biofuels, 20 UCLA J. Int’l L. & Foreign Aff. 229, 251–60 (2016) (discussing impacts on taxpayers, small farmers, and poor consumers in developing countries); Uma Outka, Environmental Justice Issues in Sustainable Development: Environmental Justice in the Renewable Energy Transition, 19 J. Envtl. & Sustainability L. 60, 77–85 (2012) (discussing impacts on Native American tribes and African American communities).

 [8]. See infra Section I.A.

 [9]. See David Doorey, Just Transitions Law: Putting Labour Law to Work on Climate Change, 30 J. Envtl. L. & Prac. 201, 206–07 (2017). In light of climate change,

energy and resource-intensive sectors are likely to stagnate or contract . . . new pressures will be brought to bear on unemployment, adjustment, and training strategies . . . . There will be winners and losers in domestic and international labour markets . . . . The idea of “just transition” to a greener, lower carbon economy has its roots in the global labour movement . . . . Just transition refers to a policy platform that advocates legal and policy responses and planning that recognizes the needs for economies to transition to lower carbon economic activity, while at the same time respects the need to promote decent work and a fair distribution of the risks and rewards associated with this transition.

Id.; Newell & Mulvaney, supra note 6, at 133–34.

 [10]. Josua Mata, What is ‘Just Transition’?, New Internationalist, Sept. 2016, at 21.

 [11]. See Shalanda Baker et al., Beyond Zero-Sum Environmentalism, 47 Envtl. L. Rep. 10328, 10330–32, 10340–43 (2017).

 [12]. Todd S. Aagaard, Environmental Law’s Heartland and Frontiers, 32 Pace Envtl. L. Rev. 511, 511–12 (2015) (“Environmental law is currently—and has been for some time—in a phase that is simultaneously reassuring and worrisome. As a society, we have been generally well served by the forty-five years of modern federal environmental law since 1970. . . . The unfortunate flip side of stability, at least in this case, has been a marked degree of ossification.”); David W. Case, The Lost Generation: Environmental Regulatory Reform in the Era of Congressional Abdication, 25 Duke Envtl. L. & Pol’y Forum 49, 89 (2014) (“[T]he prospects that Congress will enact any such positive reform-minded environmental legislation in the foreseeable future appear nonexistent.”); J.B. Ruhl, Climate Change Adaptation and the Structural Transformation of Environmental Law, 40 Envtl. L. 363, 407 (2010). But see Dave Owen, Little Streams and Legal Transformations, 2017 Utah L. Rev. 1, 5–6 (2017) (arguing that environmental protections have expanded and become more sophisticated and that overly pessimistic narratives discount environmental law’s accomplishments).

 [13]. See Todd S. Aagaard, Environmental Law Outside the Canon, 89 Ind. L.J. 1239, 1281–91 (2014) (calling for rethinking of environmental law as dominated and characterized by canon of major federal statutes enacted in 1970s, and proposing approaches that could work in antagonistic political climate, integrate with non-environmental laws, and better approach climate change); Todd S. Aagaard, Using Non-Environmental Law to Accomplish Environmental Objectives, 30 J. Land Use & Envtl. L. 35, 35 (2014); Daniel C. Esty, Red Lights to Green Lights: From 20th Century Environmental Regulation to 21st Century Sustainability, 47 Envtl. L. 1, 5 (2017).

 [14]. See Aagaard, Environmental Law’s Heartland and Frontiers, supra note 12, at 512–13.

 [15]. See Blake Hudson, Relative Administrability, Conservatives, and Environmental Regulatory Reform, 68 Fla. L. Rev. 1661, 1661 (2016) (arguing that geographic-delineation policies at state and local level offers environmental reform plan that would be palatable to conservatives); Dave Owen, Mapping, Modeling, and the Fragmentation of Environmental Law, 2013 Utah L. Rev. 219, 224–25 (2013) (arguing for applying quantitative spatial analysis to environmental law); Jedediah Purdy, American Natures: The Shape of Conflict in Environmental Law, 36 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 169, 169 (2012) (“Legal scholarship is in a bad position to make sense of [climate change] because the field has concentrated on making sound policy recommendations to an idealized lawmaker, neglecting the deeply held and sharply clashing values that drive, or block, environmental lawmaking.”); Rachael E. Salcido, Rationing Environmental Law in a Time of Climate Change, 46 Loy. U. Chi. L.J. 617, 621 (2015) (arguing that “rationing” environmental law, in other words, selectively applying environmental law to renewable energy because of climate change, is not ideal, but is nonetheless worthwhile “based on the reality of political failures, market forces, and horrifying consequences of unchecked fossil fuel dependence”); Michael P. Vandenbergh, Reconceptualizing the Future of Environmental Law: The Role of Private Climate Governance, 32 Pace Envtl. L. Rev. 382, 383 (2015) (arguing for “opportunity to buy time with private governance”).

 [16]. Cf. Doorey, supra note 9, at 206–07.

 [17]. Cf. Ruhl, supra note 12, at 407.

 [18]. Cf. Mark Sagoff, The Principles of Federal Pollution Control Law, 71 Minn. L. Rev. 19, 82–83 (1986) (criticizing environmentalism as separating ends of environmental policy from means necessary to attain the ends). So-called “blue-green alliances”—instances of environmental groups and labor groups joining forces to advocate for joint environmental and work-related platforms—demonstrate the potency of measures that bridge the historical rift between labor and environmental concerns. Ann M. Eisenberg, Alienation and Reconciliation in Social-Ecological Systems, 47 Envtl. L. 127, 145 (2017). Notable examples exist of environmentalists acknowledging labor issues, and vice versa. In 1973, Sierra Club President Mike McCloskey called for “the government ‘to indemnify workers who are displaced in true cases of plant closures for environmental reasons.’” He argued, “[w]orkers should not be made to bear the brunt of any nation’s commitment to a decent environment for all. Society should assume this burden and aid them in every way possible.” Les Leopold, The Man who Hated Work and Loved Labor 309 (2007). Today, the Sierra Club and other environmental organizations have partnered with large labor unions in a “blue-green alliance” to advocate for environmental reform alongside policies that “create and maintain quality jobs.” Members, Blue Green Alliance, https://www.bluegreenalliance.org/about/members (last visited Jan. 25, 2019).

 [19]. Cf. Scott D. Campbell, Sustainable Development and Social Justice: Conflicting Urgencies and the Search for Common Ground in Urban and Regional Planning, 1 Mich. J. of Sustainability 75, 75 (2013) (noting that “middle-class environmental interests typically trump the interests of the poor and marginalized, too often leading to an exclusionary sustainability of privilege rather than a sustainability of inclusion”); Eisenberg, supra note 18, at 127.

 [20]. Leopold, supra note 18, at 417.

 [21]. See discussion infra Section I.A.

 [22]. See Randall S. Abate, Public Nuisance Suits for the Climate Justice Movement: The Right Thing and the Right Time, 85 Wash. L. Rev. 197, 199 (2010) (“Climate justice embraces a human rights approach to advocating for rights and remedies for climate change . . . climate justice focuses on the rights of those disproportionately affected by the impacts of climate change.”); Shalanda H. Baker, Mexican Energy Reform, Climate Change, and Energy Justice in Indigenous Communities, 56 Nat. Resources J. 369, 379 (2016) (though not yet a cohesive field of study, energy justice provides overall framework to view related areas of climate justice, environmental justice, and energy democracy); see also Flatt & Payne, supra note 7, at 1081 (noting that “[e]nergy poverty” recognizes inextricable linkage between energy and “economics of the human condition.”).

 [23]. Cf. Geoff Evans & Liam Phelan, Transition to a Post-Carbon Society: Linking Environmental Justice and Just Transition Discourses, 99 Energy Pol’y 329, 333 (2016).

 [24]. Both unclean hands and estoppel are longstanding doctrines of equity that attempt to inject principles of fair play into parties’ dealings with one another. The unclean hands doctrine prevents parties from profiting from their own wrongdoing, while the estoppel doctrine prevents parties from taking inconsistent positions. See T. Leigh Anenson & Gideon Mark, Inequitable Conduct in Retrospective: Understanding Unclean Hands in Patent Remedies, 62 Am. U. L. Rev. 1441, 1450 (2013). Of course, it is not contemplated that fossil fuel workers could raise such claims in court successfully. Rather, the ideas underlying calls for just transitions seem to invoke similar principles: society should not profit substantially from its hazardous industries only to abandon the workers in those industries, and nor should it encourage fossil fuel development only to abruptly take the opposite stance. For a discussion of a takings analogy, see infra Section II.B.

 [25]. See discussion infra Section III.B for brief treatments of displacement resulting from taxi drivers competing with ride-sharing services and displacement resulting from gentrification. A forthcoming article, Distributive Justice and Rural America, further explores the just transitions concept as a principle of distributive economic justice. See generally Ann M. Eisenberg, Distributive Justice and Rural America (unpublished manuscript) (on file with author).

 [26]. See generally Doorey, supra note 9.

 [27]. See Richard J. Lazarus, Pursuing “Environmental Justice”: The Distributional Effects of Environmental Protection, 87 Nw. U. L. Rev. 787, 829 (1993).

 [28]. See Outka, supra note 7, at 62–63 (“[S]ustainable development . . . means more than ‘greener’ economic development. Instead, it captures the interrelationship between the environment, the economy, and human well-being in the effort to meet ‘the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.’”).

 [29]. Dylan Brown, Mining Union Faces ‘Life-and-Death’ Test, E&E News (Apr. 11, 2017), https://www.eenews.net/stories/1060052929.

 [30]. See infra Section II.B; see also Naomi Seiler et al., Legal and Ethical Considerations in Government Compensation Plans: A Case Study of Smallpox Immunization, 1 Ind. Health L. Rev. 3, 14 (2004) (noting that the question of whether government should compensate someone raises the question of whether government actor caused harm in question; noting, too, that government can act either way out of compassion rather than obligation, and that causation by a non-government actor also raises question of whether government failed to protect from harm).

 [31]. Cf. Holly Doremus, Takings and Transitions, 19 J. Land Use & Envtl. L. 1, 4–5 (2003) (“Focusing more directly on law as a dynamic phenomenon, on the benefits and costs of transitions, and on other factors that may encourage or impede transitions might bring some coherence to [the] famously incoherent area of [takings] law.”); Louis Kaplow, An Economic Analysis of Legal Transitions, 99 Harv. L. Rev. 509, 534 (1986) (“[N]one of the distinctions they offer for treating government and market risks differently withstands scrutiny.”).

 [32]. See, e.g., Mark Joseph Stern, A New Lochner Era, Slate (June 29, 2018), https://slate.com
/news-and-politics/2018/06/the-lochner-era-is-set-for-a-comeback-at-the-supreme-court.html.

 [33]. Swilling & Annecke, supra note 7; Caroline Farrell, A Just Transition: Lessons Learned from the Environmental Justice Movement, 45 Duke F.L. & Soc. Change 45, 45 (2012) (“As we transition away from a fossil fuel economy, we should . . . plan the transition not only to change the way we use fuel, but to create a truly just economy.”).

 [34]. Doorey, supra note 9, at 7.

 [35]. See, e.g., Outka, supra note 7, at 68 (listing harmful health and environmental effects of fossil fuel production and consumption).

 [36]. Cf. Evans & Phelan, supra note 23.

 [37]. See Wiwa v. Royal Dutch Petroleum Co., 226 F.3d 88 (2d Cir. 2000), cert. denied, 532 U.S. 941 (2001); see also Uma Outka, Fairness in the Low-Carbon Shift: Learning from Environmental Justice, 82 Brook. L. Rev. 789, 792 (2017) (explaining that the U.S. petroleum industry has caused devastating human rights abuses in Africa and South America).

 [38]. Debbie Elliot, 5 Years After BP Oil Spill, Effects Linger and Recovery Is Slow, Nat’l Pub. Radio (Apr. 20, 2015), http://www.npr.org/2015/04/20/400374744/5-years-after-bp-oil-spill-effects-linger-and-recovery-is-slow.

 [39]. E.g., Luis E. Cuervo, OPEC from Myth to Reality, 30 Hous. J. Int’l L. 433, 494 (2008).

 [40]. Shannon Elizabeth Bell & Richard York, Community Economic Identity: The Coal Industry and Ideology Construction in West Virginia, 75 Rural Soc. 111, 139 (2010); Jeanne Marie Zokovitch Paben, Green Power & Environmental Justice—Does Green Discriminate?, 46 Tex. Tech L. Rev. 1067, 1108 (2014).

 [41]. See Outka, supra note 7, at 790 (explaining that the energy sector’s reliance on fossil fuels, primarily coal, makes it the primary source of greenhouse gas emissions in the United States, a country which has contributed more to climate change than any other country); Salcido, supra note 15, at 618–19 (listing effects of climate change already occurring, such as more severe, frequent storms).

 [42]. Evans & Phelan, supra note 23, at 330 (describing social movement for “post-carbon society,” which ranges from grassroots, “bottom-up surveillance” and demands for more democratic and decentralized energy sources, to major U.S. banks that have moved away from ever-riskier coal investments).

 [43]. See, e.g., Tom Murray, China Is Going All in on Clean Energy as the U.S. Waffles. How Is that Making America Great Again?, Forbes (Jan. 6, 2017), https://www.forbes.com/sites
/edfenergyexchange/2017/01/06/china-is-going-all-in-on-clean-energy-as-the-u-s-waffles-how-is-that-making-america-great-again/2/#769f3bac340f.

 [44]. Michael Greshko et al., A Running List of How President Trump Is Changing the Environmental Policy, Nat’l Geographic (Oct. 19, 2018), http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2017
/03/how-trump-is-changing-science-environment.

 [45]. Devashree Saha & Mark Muro, Growth, Carbon, and Trump: State Progress and Drift on Economic Growth and Emissions ‘Decoupling’, Brookings (Dec. 8, 2016), https://www.brookings.edu
/research/growth-carbon-and-trump-state-progress-and-drift-on-economic-growth-and-emissions-decoupling.

 [46]. Camila Domonoske, Mayors, Companies Vow to Act on Climate, Even as U.S. Leaves Paris Accord, Nat’l Pub. Radio (June 5, 2017), http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2017/06/05
/531603731/mayors-companies-vow-to-act-on-climate-even-as-u-s-leaves-paris-accord.

 [47]. Outka, supra note 7, at 793; Murray, supra note 43.

 [48]. Nigel Topping, The Irreversible Rise of the Clean Economy in 2017, GreenBiz (Feb. 7, 2017), https://www.greenbiz.com/article/irreversible-rise-clean-economy-2017.

 [49]. Id.

 [50]. Outka, supra note 7, at 77–85; Stevis & Felli, supra note 4, at 43 (“Like the grey economy before it, this Green Transition can be as exploitative of people and nature as the grey economy was, if there is no countervailing power and vision.”).

 [51]. Lakshman Guruswamy, Energy Justice and Sustainable Development, 21 Colo. J. Int’l Envtl. L. & Pol’y 231, 271 (2010).

 [52]. Alex Geisinger, Uncovering the Myth of a Jobs/Nature Trade-Off, 51 Syracuse L. Rev. 115 passim (2001); Carey Catherine Whitehead, Wielding a Finely Crafted Legal Scalpel: Why Courts Did Not Cause the Decline of the Pacific Northwest Timber Industry, 38 Envtl. L. 979, 981 (2008) (describing the “classic” jobs-versus-environment “story”).

 [53]. See, e.g., Garrett Ballengee & Michael Reed, Clean Power Plan: All Pain, No Gain for West Virginia, The Hill (Aug. 3, 2016), http://thehill.com/blogs/pundits-blog/energy-environment/289694-clean-power-plan-all-pain-no-gain-for-west-virginia.

 [54]. See, e.g., Geisinger, supra note 52.

 [55]. E.g., id. See generally Lois J. Schiffer & Jeremy D. Heep, Forests, Wetlands and the Superfund: Three Examples of Environmental Protection Promoting Jobs, 22 J. Corp. L. 571 (1997) (describing as a “myth” that conflict exists between protection of environment and protection of jobs).

 [56]. See, e.g., Isaac Shapiro & John Irons, Econ. Policy Inst., Briefing Paper #305  Regulation, Employment, and the Economy: Fears of Job Loss Are Overblown 12 (2011) (“Regulations can have broad economic benefits that may not be apparent at first blush. Clean air regulations, for instance, significantly improve the health of workers and children, resulting in lower health care costs and more productive workers.”); Jan G. Laitos & Thomas A. Carr, The Transformation on Public Lands, 26 Ecology L.Q. 140, 174 (1999) (noting benefits to communities of shifts away from extractive industries); Schiffer & Heep, supra note 55.

 [57]. Cf. Fran Ansley, Standing Rusty and Rolling Empty: Law, Poverty, and America’s Eroding Industrial Base, 81 Geo. L.J. 1757, 1763 (1993) (noting that plant closures of 1980s and 90s were “both quantitatively and qualitatively different” than regular layoffs and socioeconomic transitions in the number, size, and frequency of closings, as well as “disturbing patterns in the types of jobs lost and the types of jobs gained”).

 [58]. See Robert Pollin & Brian Callaci, A Just Transition for U.S. Fossil Fuel Industry Workers, 27 Am. Prospect 88, 89 (2016).

 [59]. Id.

 [60]. Maanvi Singh, Gassy Cows Are Warming the Planet and They’re Here To Stay, Nat’l Pub. Radio: The Salt (Apr. 12, 2014), https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2014/04/11/301794415/gassy-cows-are-warming-the-planet-and-theyre-here-to-stay (methane from livestock accounted for 39% of agricultural greenhouse gas emissions in 2011).

 [61]. Pollin & Callaci, supra note 58, at 89.

 [62]. See generally, e.g., Int’l Civil Aviation Org., Environmental Report 2010: Aviation and Climate Change (2010) (reporting that aviation accounts for around 2% of total CO2 emissions); Lisa J. Hanle et al., CO2 Emissions Profile of the U.S. Cement Industry (2004) (noting that cement production is a substantial CO2 emitter); U.S. Envtl. Prot. Agency,  Fast Fact: U.S. Transportation Sector Greenhouse Gas Emissions 1990–2015, at 1 (2017) (noting that transportation accounted for 27% of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions in 2015).

 [63]. Pollin & Callaci, supra note 58, at 89.

 [64]. Geisinger, supra note 52.

 [65]. Pollin & Callaci, supra note 58, at 88.

 [66]. Doorey, supra note 9, at 221 (“[N]ew regulations limiting emissions or requiring ‘green’ production equipment or techniques can affect production systems in ways that impact working conditions, cause layoffs, or create downward pressure on labour costs.”); Alana Semuels, Do Regulations Really Kill Jobs?, Atlantic (Jan. 19, 2017), https://www.theatlantic.com/business
/archive/2017/01/regulations-jobs/513563 (“Regulations that seek to make air and water cleaner can also cause concentrated job losses in certain industries and locations.”); see also Lands Council v. McNair, 494 F.3d 771, 779 (9th Cir. 2007) (finding that an injunction of timber harvest would force timber companies to lay off some or all of their workers); Schiffer & Heep, supra note 55, at 582.

No economic analysis can ignore the suffering of some rural communities, which bear the brunt of the economic pain associated with reduced federally subsidized timber supplies. In addition to lost jobs and the associated closure of local businesses, county governments are receiving lower U.S. Treasury payments resulting from timber sales at the same time the county’s social services are most in demand.

Id. (footnotes omitted).

 [67]. Cf. Hari M. Osofsky, The Geography of Justice Wormholes: Dilemmas from Property and Criminal Law, 53 Vill. L. Rev. 117, 122 (2008).

 [68]. Jia Lynn Yang, Does Government Regulation Really Kill Jobs? Economists Say Overall Effect: Minimal., Wash. Post (Nov. 13, 2011), https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy
/does-government-regulation-really-kill-jobs-economists-say-overall-effect-minimal/2011/10/19
/gIQALRF5IN_story.html?noredirect=on&utm_term=.f23e96256dfa.

 [69]. Doorey, supra note 9, at 203; Newell & Mulvaney, supra note 6; Evans & Phelan, supra note 23, at 333; Stevis & Felli, supra note 4, at 35.

 [70]. Leopold, supra note 18, at 417.

 [71]. Id.

 [72]. Id. at 416.

 [73]. Id. at 417.

 [74]. Id. at 468.

 [75]. Id.

 [76]. Id.

 [77]. But see Caleb Goods, A Just Transition to a Green Economy: Evaluating the Response of Australian Unions, 39 Austl. Bull. of Lab. 13, 15 (2013) (“A just transition clearly seeks to resolve the divisive jobs versus environment problem; however, actual union commitments to what a just transition response constitutes can be assessed as variable and unclear.”).

 [78]. Evans & Phelan, supra note 23, at 333.

 [79]. Int’l Labour Org., Guidelines for a Just Transition Towards Environmentally Sustainable Economies and Societies for All 3–4, 13 (2015) (advising governments to include implementing workers’ skills training and engaging workers and their representatives in the means to achieve low-carbon policies while creating and protecting employment).

 [80]. Farrell, supra note 33, at 45 (discussing environmental justice); Shelley Welton, Clean Electrification, 88 U. Colo. L. Rev. 571, 573 (2017) (discussing “clean energy justice,” or the idea that “the suite of policies boosting green jobs also creates a new genre of environmental justice challenges,” and other inequitable effects of clean energy policies); see Ruhl, supra note 13, at 407 (noting “climate justice” refers to the fact that climate change impacts will be felt unevenly throughout the world; the capacity to adapt to climate change is also unevenly distributed).

 [81]. See infra Section III.C; cf. Frederico Cheever & John C. Dernbach, Sustainable Development and Its Discontents, 4 Transnat’l Envtl. L. 247, 282 (2015) (rejecting criticisms of “sustainable development” as too vague to be useful).

 [82]. Swilling & Annecke, supra note 7, at xiii.

 [83]. Farrell, supra note 33, at 45, 49.

 [84]. Linda Lobao et al., Poverty, Place, and Coal Employment Across Appalachia and the United States in a New Economic Era, 81 Rural Soc. 343, 343 (2016); Judson Abraham, Just Transitions for the Miners: Labor Environmentalism in the Ruhr and Appalachian Coalfields, 39 New Pol. Sci. 218, 218 (2017); Alan Ramo & Deborah Behles, Transitioning a Community Away from Fossil-Fuel Generation to a Green Economy: An Approach Using State Utility Commission Authority, 15 Minn. J. L., Sci. & Tech. 505, 507 (2014) (“A significant barrier to transitioning to clean energy sources is the local economic dependency fostered by a fossil fuel economy.”).

 [85]. Lobao et al., supra note 84, at 377.

 [86]. Evans & Phelan, supra note 23, at 331 (alterations in original) (internal quotation omitted).

 [87]. Doorey, supra note 9, at 207.

 [88]. J. Mijin Cha, Labor Leading Climate: A Policy Platform to Address Rising Inequality and Rising Sea Levels in New York State, 34 Pace Envtl. L. Rev. 423, 446 (2017).

 [89]. Ramo & Behles, supra note 84, at 508.

 [90]. Evans & Phelan, supra note 23, at 333.

 [91]. Id. Australia and Canada have also embraced the narrow just transitions meaning. The Canadian Labour Council defines just transitions “as a political campaign to ‘ensure that the costs of environmental change [towards sustainability] will be shared fairly. Failure to create a just transition means that the cost of moves to sustainability will devolve wholly onto workers in targeted industries and their communities.’” Id. at 331.

 [92]. Should Equity Be a Goal of Economic Policy?, Int’l Monetary Fund (Jan. 1998), https://www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/issues/issues16 (discussing economic equity as a principle that economic resources, such as income, wealth, and land ownership, should be distributed fairly).

 [93]. Doorey, supra note 9, at 201.

 [94]. Id.

 [95]. Id.

 [96]. Id. at 214.

 [97]. Id. at 238.

 [98]. Id. at 225 (“Also like labour law, environmental justice has roots in a bottom-up resistance movement critical of a dominant legal system that benefits economically and politically powerful, privileged segments of society. [Environmental justice] is a natural ally to labour law in a re-imagined legal field organized around . . . subordination and resistance.”).

 [99]. Id.

 [100]. Id. at 234.

 [101]. Id.

 [102]. Principles of Climate Justice, Mary Robinson Found.,  https://www.mrfcj.org/principles-of-climate-justice (last visited Feb. 1, 2019).

 [103]. Maxine Burkett, Just Solutions to Climate Change: A Climate Justice Proposal for a Domestic Clean Development Mechanism, 56 Buff. L. Rev. 169, 196 (2008); Ruhl, supra note 12, at 408.

 [104]. Doorey, supra note 9.

 [105]. See generally John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (1971).

 [106]. Alice Kaswan, Distributive Justice and the Environment, 81 N.C. L. Rev. 1031 passim (2003). See generally Guruswamy, supra note 51.

 [107]. Outka, supra note 7, at 64–65.

 [108]. Id.

 [109]. See generally Guruswamy, supra note 51.

 [110]. Outka, supra note 7, at 64.

 [111]. Evans & Phelan, supra note 23, at 333.

 [112]. Id. at 331.

[W]hile there is potential synergy between environmental justice and just transitions campaigns, a harmonious resolution of the two concepts is not guaranteed if the interests and aspirations within the community are poorly negotiated between the parties involved. A melding of environmental justice campaign goals on the one hand and labour movement goals on the other, is particularly challenged by the continuing hegemony of the ‘jobs versus environment’ discourse.

Id.

 [113]. Outka, supra note 7, at 62–63.

 [114]. John C. Dernbach, Creating Legal Pathways to a Zero Carbon Future, 46 Envtl. Law Rep. 10780, 10782 (2016).

 [115]. Outka, supra note 7, at 72–74.

 [116]. Dernbach, supra note 114, at 10782 (footnote omitted); see also Campbell, supra note 19, at 75.

[D]espite the perhaps inevitable criticisms of immeasurability and vagueness, sustainability has endured as a central principle in urban planning because its oppositional engagement with social justice and economic development continually reinvigorates sustainability planning, keeps the term relevant and inclusive, and grants the task of urban planning greater urgency.

Campbell, supra note 19, at 75.

 [117]. Rep. of the World Summit on Sustainable Dev., U.N. Doc A/CONF.199/20, at 2 (2002).

 [118]. Outka, supra note 7, at 64.

 [119]. Dernbach, supra note 114, at 33 (footnotes omitted).

 [120]. Id.

 [121]. See, e.g., Campbell, supra note 19, at 83; Edward H. Ziegler, American Cities and Sustainable Development in the Age of Global Terrorism: Some Thoughts on Fortress America and the Potential for Defensive Dispersal II, 30 Wm. & Mary Envtl. L. & Pol’y Rev. 95, 110 (2005) (“[S]ocial equity, and particularly intergenerational equity, along with resource conservation and environmental protection, are central concepts in sustainable development philosophy.”).

 [122]. These values are also referred to as “the three Es (Economy, Environment, and Equity)[.] [S]ustainable development is often defined as an endeavor that strives to maintain equilibrium between these domains.” Catherine L. Ross et al., Measuring Regional Transportation Sustainability: An Exploration, 43 Urb. Law. 67, 69 (2010).

 [123]. Outka, supra note 7, at 66; see also Campbell, supra note 19, at 76 (“The sustainability and social justice movements may be coming closer together, yet much still divides them into two separate conversations that frequently overhear each other without easily merging.”).

 [124]. Outka, supra note 7, at 85.

 [125]. Id. at 63; see also Campbell, supra note 19, at 77 (suggesting that environmental justice is an “important subset of the larger field of urban sustainability”).

 [126]. Outka, supra note 7, at 91.

 [127]. Id. at 122.

 [128]. Farrell, supra note 33, at 45.

 [129]. Cf. id. at 51. Farrell uses the broad just transitions meaning, but she also concludes that holistic decisionmaking is necessary going forward.

 [130]. Eisenberg, Alienation and Reconciliation, supra note 18.

 [131]. Melinda Harm Benson & Robin Kundis Craig, The End of Sustainability, 27 Soc’y & Nat. Res. 777, 779–80 (2014).

 [132]. Id.

 [133]. Robin Kundis Craig, “Stationarity Is Dead”—Long Live Transformation: Five Principles for Climate Change Adaptation Law, 34 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 9, 63–64 (2010).

 [134]. Robin Kundis Craig & J.B. Ruhl, Designing Administrative Law for Adaptive Management, 67 Vand. L. Rev. 1 (2014); Flatt & Payne, supra note 7 at 1081.

 [135]. Benson & Craig, supra note 131.

 [136]. The President’s Northwest Forest Plan, discussed below as an example of just transitions policy that aided communities hurt by the decline in the timber industry, lends weight to the potential of the just transitions concept to help bring sustainable development goals more in line with resilience theory, although the Plan itself is considered a mixed success. Susan Charnley, formerly of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, said of the Plan:

From a social perspective, the Northwest Forest Plan as a model for broad-scale ecosystem management is perhaps most valuable in its attempt to link the biophysical and socioeconomic goals of forest management by creating high-quality jobs for residents of forest communities in restoration, research, monitoring, and other forest stewardship activities that protect the environment.

Susan Charnley, The Northwest Forest Plan as a Model for Broad-Scale Ecosystem Management: A Social Perspective, 20 Conservation Biology 330, 338 (2006).

 [137]. See Cheever & Dernbach, supra note 81, at 251.

 [138]. Flatt & Payne, supra note 7, at 1079.

 [139]. Lazarus, supra note 27, at 787.

 [140]. Baker et al., supra note 11.

 [141]. Craig & Ruhl, supra note 134.

 [142]. Bell & York, supra note 40.

 [143]. Anne Marie Lofaso, What We Owe Our Coal Miners, 5 Harv. L. & Pol’y Rev. 87, 87 (2011).

 [144]. See, e.g., discussion infra Section IV.C about Native American community in mixed environmental justice/economic dependency relationship with coal-fired power plant.

 [145]. Ann M. Eisenberg, Beyond Science and Hysteria: Reality and Perceptions of Environmental Justice Concerns Surrounding Marcellus and Utica Shale Gas Development, 77 U. Pitt. L. Rev. 183, 199 (2015); see also Bell & York, supra note 40, at 119.

 [146]. Bell & York, supra note 40, at 119.

 [147]. Id.

 [148]. Id.

 [149]. Id.

 [150]. Id.

 [151]. Id. at 120.

 [152]. Lofaso, supra note 143, at 88.

 [153]. Bell & York, supra note 40, at 11920.

 [154]. Lofaso, supra note 143, at 89.

 [155]. Id.

 [156]. Id.

 [157]. David J. Blackley et al., Continued Increase in Prevalence of Coal Workers’ Pneumoconiosis in the United States, 1970-2017, 108 Am. J. of Pub. Health 1220, 1221 (2018).

 [158]. Appalachian Voices, The Human Cost of Mountaintop Removal Coal Mining: Mapping the Science Behind Health and Economic Woes of Central Appalachia 1 (2012).

 [159]. See generally Chad Montrie, To Save the Land and the People: A History of Opposition to Surface Coal Mining in Appalachia (2003).

 [160]. Lofaso, supra note 143, at 94–95.

 [161]. Hitchman Coal & Coke Co. v. Mitchell, 245 U.S. 229, 250–52 (1917).

 [162]. Evan Andrews, The Battle of Blair Mountain, History (Aug. 25, 2016), http://www.history.com/news/americas-largest-labor-uprising-the-battle-of-blair-mountain.

 [163]. Brian C. Murchison, Due Process, Black Lung, and the Shaping of Administrative Justice, 54 Admin. L. Rev. 1025, 1026 (2002).

 [164]. Mona L. Hymel, Environmental Tax Policy in the United States: A “Bit” of History, 3 Ariz. J. Envtl. L. & Pol’y 157, 162 (2013).

 [165]. Janet Redman, Oil Change Int’l, Dirty Energy Dominance: Dependent on Denial: How the U.S. Fossil Fuel Industry Depends on Subsidies and Climate Denial 5 (2017).

 [166]. Mason Adams, A 40-Year-Old Federal Law Literally Changed the Appalachian Landscape, W.Va. Pub. Broadcasting (Aug. 5, 2017), http://wvpublic.org/post/40-year-old-federal-law-literally-changed-appalachian-landscape#stream/0.

 [167]. See Robert E. Beck, The Current Effort in Congress to Amend the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act of 1977 (SMCRA), 8 Fordham Envtl. L.J. 607, 617–18 (1997).

 [168]. Murchison, supra note 163, at 1027.

 [169]. Cf. Bailey H. Kuklin, The Plausibility of Legally Protecting Reasonable Expectations, 32 Val. U. L. Rev. 19, 19 (1997) (“[E]xpectations, particularly reasonable expectations, are at the heart of many legal doctrines. Contract, property and tort claims are often justified on the grounds that they protect reasonable expectations.”).

 [170]. See, e.g., Chris McGreal, America’s Poorest White Town: Abandoned by Coal, Swallowed by Drugs, Guardian (Nov. 12, 2015), https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/nov/12/beattyville-kentucky-and-americas-poorest-towns.

 [171]. See Annalyn Censky, Coal ‘Ghost Towns’ Loom in West Virginia, CNN Money (May 26, 2011), http://money.cnn.com/2011/05/26/news/economy/west_virginia/index.htm.

 [172]. See Patrick McGinley, Collateral Damage: Turning a Blind Eye to Environmental and Social Injustice in the Coalfields, 19 J. Envtl. & Sustainability L. 305, 425 (2013) (noting that coal country’s sacrifice “ha[s] helped power and build a nation”).

 [173]. Kaplow, supra note 31, at 534 (“[M]ost commentators . . . defend mitigation of government risks, but not of market risks. Yet none of the distinctions they offer for treating government and market risks differently withstands scrutiny . . . . [T]here is little to distinguish losses arising from government and market risk.”).

 [174]. Trevor Houser et al., Columbia Ctr. on Global Energy Policy, Can Coal Make a Comeback? passim (2017), https://energypolicy.columbia.edu/sites/default/files/Center_on_Global
_Energy_Policy_Can_Coal_Make_Comeback_April_2017.pdf; Matt Egan, What Killed Coal? Technology and Cheaper Alternatives, CNN (Aug. 21, 2018), https://money.cnn.com/2018/08/21
/investing/coal-power-trump-epa/index.html; Andrew Sorensen, Natural Gas and Wind Energy Killed Coal, Not ‘War on Coal’, CU Boulder Today (May 7, 2018), https://www.colorado.edu/today/2018
/05/07/natural-gas-and-wind-energy-killed-coal-not-war-coal.

 [175]. Eisenberg, Beyond Science and Hysteria, supra note 145, at 207 (discussing exemptions for hydraulic fracturing in federal environmental statutes); see also Michael Pappas, A Right to be Regulated?, 24 Geo. Mason L. Rev. 99, 118–20 (2016) (arguing that regulatory changes may destroy the value of previously regulated utilities); cf. Christopher Serkin, Passive Takings: The State’s Affirmative Duty to Protect Property, 113 Mich. L. Rev. 345, 372–74 (2014) (“The harm resulting from inaction can be just as damaging as the harm resulting from overt action.”).

     [176].      Joseph L. Sax, Do Communities Have Rights—The National Parks as a Laboratory of New Ideas, 45 U. Pitt. L. Rev. 499, 499 (1983).

 [177]. Id.

 [178]. Id. at 500.

 [179]. Joseph Sax, Liberating the Public Trust Doctrine from Its Historical Shackles, 14 U.C. Davis L. Rev. 185, 187 (1980) (emphasis added).

 [180]. See id. at 186–88.

 [181]. Id.

 [182]. Cf. Legal Pathways to Deep Decarbonization in the United States (Michael B. Gerrard & John C. Dernbach eds. 2018); Chris Bataille et al., The Need for National Deep Decarbonization Pathways for Effective Climate Policy, 16 Climate Pol’y 1 (2016).

 [183]. See Frank Michelman, Property, Utility, and Fairness: Comments on the Ethical Foundations of “Just Compensation” Law, 80 Harv. L. Rev. 1180–81 (1967).

     [184].    Erin Fleaher Rogers, Agricultural Trade Adjustment Assistance: Food for Thought on the First Decade of the Newest Trade Adjustment Assistance Program, 23 Fed. Cir. B.J. 561, 562 (2014).

 [185]. Int’l Union v. Marshall, 584 F.2d 390, 395 (D.C. Cir. 1978).

 [186]. Id.

 [187]. See, e.g., Malcolm Bale & John Mutti, Income Losses, Compensation, and International Trade, 13 J. Hum. Resources 278, 283–84 (1978); Joseph Singer, The Reliance Interest in Property, 40 Stanford L. Rev. 3 (1988); Seth Mydans, Displaced Aerospace Workers Face Grim Future in California Economy, N.Y. Times (May 3, 1995), https://www.nytimes.com/1995/05/03/us/displaced-aerospace-workers-face-grim-future-in-california-economy.html. See generally Does Regulation Kill Jobs? (Cary Coglianese et al., eds. 2015).

 [188]. See Bale & Mutti, supra note 187; Singer, supra note 187; Mydans, supra note 187.

 [189]. Philip Levine, Towards a Property Right in Employment, 22 Buff. L. Rev. 1081 (1973); Robert Meltz, Takings Law Today: A Primer for the Perplexed, 34 Ecology L.Q. 307, 321 (2007). Takings jurisprudence does not recognize as property “the mere ability to conduct a business, as something separate from the business’ assets” or “permits and licenses if nontransferable and revocable.”  Meltz, Takings Law Today, supra, at 321. In a 1933 opinion in Lynch v. United States, the Court held that valid contracts could be property for takings purposes.  Lynch v. United States, 292 U.S. 571, 571 (1933). In 1995, however, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit observed that the Court effectively overruled Lynch in 1986 “to the extent that [Lynch] flatly holds that contracts are property that the government may not take without compensation . . . [an] analysis [that] does not resemble the takings jurisprudence of today.” Pro-Eco, Inc. v. Bd. of Comm’rs of Jay Cty., Ind., 57 F.3d 505, 510 n.2 (7th Cir. 1995) (discussing Connolly v. Pension Benefit Guarantee Corp., 475 U.S. 211 (1986)).

 [190]. Doremus, supra note 31, at 3 (“Regulatory takings claims are fundamentally conflicts over legal transitions. They arise when the rules change, those changes are costly (in economic or other terms), and the people bearing the costs believe that they are being unfairly singled out.”).

 [191]. James Manyika et al., Jobs Lost, Jobs Gained: What the Future of Work Will Mean for Jobs, Skills, and Wages, McKinsey Global Inst. (Nov. 2017), https://www.mckinsey.com/featured-insights/future-of-work/jobs-lost-jobs-gained-what-the-future-of-work-will-mean-for-jobs-skills-and-wages; James Doubek, Automation Could Displace 800 Million Workers Worldwide by 2030, Study Says, Nat’l Pub. Radio (Nov. 30, 2017), https://www.npr.org/sections/alltechconsidered/2017/11/30
/567408644/automation-could-displace-800-million-workers-worldwide-by-2030-study-says.

 [192]. See, e.g., Maggie Fox, Death Maps Show Where Despair Is Killing Americans, NBC (Mar. 13, 2018), https://www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/death-maps-show-where-despair-killing-americans-n856231; Alec MacGillis, The Original Underclass, Atlantic (Sept. 2016), https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2016/09/the-original-underclass/492731.

 [193]. Cf. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, Summary for Policymakers of IPCC Special Report on Global Warming of 1.5C Approved by Governments (2018), https://www.ipcc.ch/pdf/session48/pr_181008_P48_spm_en.pdf.

 [194]. Ruhl, supra note 12, at 392.

 [195]. See Todd S. Aagaard, Environmental Law Outside the Canon, 89 Ind. L.J. 1239, 1241 (2014).

 [196]. Id. at 1240.

 [197]. Id. at 1251–54.

 [198]. Zygmunt J.B. Plater, From the Beginning, a Fundamental Shift of Paradigms: A Theory and Short History of Environmental Law, 27 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 981, 1002 (1994).

 [199]. See generally Rachel Carson, Silent Spring (1962).

 [200]. Jonathon Adler, The Fable of the Burning River, 45 Years Later, Wash. Post (June 22, 2014), https://wapo.st/1lgHyz8?tid=ss_tw&utm_term=.e1b92a32a102.

 [201]. Plater, supra note 198 passim.

 [202]. See Daniel A. Farber, Politics and Procedure in Environmental Law, 8 J.L. Econ. & Org. 59, 60 (1992).

 [203]. Id.

 [204]. Id

 [205]. Id.

 [206]. Id. at 61.

 [207]. Daniel A. Farber, The Conservative as Environmentalist: From Goldwater and the Early Reagan to the 21st Century, 59 Ariz. L. Rev. 1005, 1007 (2017).

 [208]. Id.

 [209]. See generally Jonathan Mingle, Fighting for the Future, 5 Environment@Harvard 1 (2013).

 [210]. Lydia Saad, Global Warming Concern at Three-Decade High in U.S., Gallup (Mar. 14, 2017), http://news.gallup.com/poll/206030/global-warming-concern-three-decade-high.aspx; Robinson Meyer, What Americans Really Think About Climate Change, Atlantic (Apr. 22, 2017), https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2017/04/climate-polling-burnout/523881.

 [211]. Sebastien Malo & Sophie Hares, On the Boil: Five Climate Lawsuits to Watch in 2018, Reuters (Dec. 27, 2017), https://www.reuters.com/article/us-global-climatechange-lawsuit-factbox
/onthe-boil-five-climate-lawsuits-to-watch-in-2018-idUSKBN1EM0J7.

 [212]. For example, California achieved its 2020 target for reduced greenhouse gas emissions four years early, see Cal. Air Resources Board, California Greenhouse Gas Emissions for 2000 to 2016 (2008), https://www.arb.ca.gov/cc/inventory/pubs/reports/2000_2016/ghg_inventory_trends_00-16.pdf, plaintiffs seeking more stringent regulations have succeeded in litigation based on the Clean Air Act, the Endangered Species Act, and the California Environmental Quality Act, see Sabrina McCormick et al., Strategies In and Outcomes of Climate Change Litigation in the United States, 8 Nature Climate Change 829 (2018), and major cities have committed to aggressive greenhouse gas reductions as well as the goal of limiting global warming to one-and-a-half degrees Celsius, Milman et al., The Fight Against Climate Change: Four Cities Leading the Way in the Trump Era, Guardian (June 12, 2017), https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2017/jun/12/climate-change-trump-new-york-city-san-francisco-houston-miami.

 [213]. Ruhl, supra note 12, at 411–12.

 [214]. Andrew Rowell, Green Backlash: Global Subversion of the Environmental Movement (1996).

 [215]. Eisenberg, Beyond Science and Hysteria, supra note 145, at 200; Eisenberg, Alienation and Reconciliation, supra note 18, at 154.

 [216]. McGinley, supra note 1702, at 316.

 [217]. Bell & York, supra note 40, at 139.

 [218]. Brian Obach, Labor and the Environmental Movement: The Question for Common Ground (2004).

 [219]. Id. at 9.

 [220]. Id. at 11.

 [221]. Eisenberg, Alienation and Reconciliation, supra note 18, at 140–47.

 [222]. Id.; Doorey, supra note 9, at 221.

 [223]. Jenna Hanson, The Modern Environmental Movement’s Big Failure, Pac. Standard (Apr. 17, 2015), https://psmag.com/environment/the-modern-environmental-movements-big-failure. But see Montrie, supra note 159 (discussing the untold history of popular opposition to environmental degradation).

 [224]. Hanson, supra note 223.

 [225]. Id.

 [226]. Lisa R. Pruitt & Linda T. Sobczynski, Protecting People, Protecting Places: What Environmental Litigation Conceals and Reveals About Rurality, 47 J. Rural Stud. 326, 326 (2016).

 [227]. Eisenberg, Alienation and Reconciliation, supra note 18, at 145.

 [228]. Id.

[229].     Farber, Politics and Procedure, supra note 202, at 60.

 [230]. Id.

 [231]. Cf. Kathy Mulvey et al., Union of Concerned Scientists, The Climate Accountability Scorecard: Ranking Major Fossil Fuel Companies on Climate Deception, Disclosure, and Action (2016), https://www.ucsusa.org/sites/default/files/attach/2016/10/climate-accountability-scorecard-full-report.pdf.

 [232].  Eisenberg, Alienation and Reconciliation, supra note 18, at 173.

 [233].  See generally Hari Osofsky & Jacqueline Peel, Energy Partisanship, 65 Emory L.J. 695 (2016) (discussing how environmental reform may be possible by tempering partisanship).

 [234]. Trade Act of 1974, 19 U.S.C. § 2101 (2012); 20 C.F.R. § 617.2 (2018).

 [235]. See, e.g., Trade Adjustment Assistance for Workers, Emp. & Training Admin., https://doleta.gov/tradeact (last visited Feb. 5, 2019).

 [236]. 19 U.S.C.. § 2251(a) (2012); Rogers, supra note 184 (“While the program initially provided aid only to workers, businesses, and communities, it was expanded in 2002 to cover farmers and fishermen through the Agricultural Trade Adjustment Assistance program.”); see also Stephen Kim Park, Bridging the Global Governance Gap: Reforming the Law of Trade Adjustment, 43 Geo. J. Int’l L. 797, 817–39 (2012) (discussing rationales for trade adjustment assistance).

 [237]. Int’l Union, UAW v. Marshall, 584 F.2d 390, 395 (D.C. Cir. 1978).

 [238]. Id.

 [239]. 19 U.S.C. § 2271 (2012); Petition Filing Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ), U.S. Dep’t of Labor (Aug. 31, 2018), https://doleta.gov/tradeact/petitioners/FAQ_Answers.cfm#G4.

 [240]. Investing in Trade-Affected Workers, U.S. Dep’t of Labor (Aug. 31, 2018), https://doleta.gov/tradeact/petitioners/petitionprocess.cfm; see also Benjamin Collins, Cong. Res. Serv.  Trade Adjustment Assistance for Workers and the TAA Reauthorization Act of 2015 (2018), https://fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/R44153.pdf (“Individual benefits are funded by the federal government and administered by state agencies through their workforce systems and unemployment insurance systems.”).

 [241]. Rogers, supra note 184, at 568.

 [242]. Id. at 568–69.

 [243]. Malcolm Bale & John Mutti, Income Losses, Compensation, and International Trade, 13 J. Hum. Resources 278, 283–84 (1978).

 [244]. See Lori G. Kletzer, Job Loss from Imports: Measuring the Costs 78 (2001).

 [245]. Designing a National Strategy for Responding to Economic Dislocation: Hearing Before the Subcomm. on Investigations and Oversight of the H. Comm. on Science and Technology, 110th Cong. 1 (2008) (testimony of Howard Rosen, Executive Director, Trade Adjustment Assistance Coalition).

 [246]. Shana Fried, Note, Strengthening the Role of the U.S. Court of International Trade in Helping Trade-Affected Workers, 58 Rutgers L. Rev. 747, 748 (2006); see also Steven T. O’Hara, Worker Adjustment Assistance: The Failure & The Future, 5 Nw. J. Int’l. L. & Bus. 394, 395              –96 (1983).

 [247]. See Fran Ansley, Standing Rusty and Rolling Empty: Law, Poverty, and America’s Eroding Industrial Base, 81 Geo. L.J. 1757, 1881 (1993); see also Park, supra note 236 passim; Fried, supra note 246 passim.

 [248]. Seattle Audubon Soc’y v. Mosley, 798 F. Supp. 1484, 1490 (W.D. Wash. 1992) (stating that endangering the northern spotted owl violated the National Forest Management Act, 16 U.S.C. § 1600).

 [249]. See, e.g., Portland Audubon Soc’y v. Lujan, 795 F. Supp. 1489, 1510 (D. Or. 1992), aff’d sub nom. Portland Audubon Soc’y v. Babbitt, 998 F.2d 705 (9th Cir. 1993).

 [250]. See Am. Forest Res. Council v. Shea, 172 F. Supp. 2d 24,  (D.D.C. 2001); Michael C. Blumm & Tim Wigington, The Oregon & California Railroad Grant Land’s Sordid Past, Contentious Present, and Uncertain Future: A Century of Conflict, 40 B.C. Envtl. Aff. L. Rev. 1, 4–5 (2013); Robert B. Keiter, Toward a National Conservation Network Act: Transforming Landscape Conservation on the Public Lands into Law, 42 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 62, 122 (2018).

 [251]. See, e.g., Seattle Audubon Soc’y v. Lyons, 871 F. Supp. 1291, 1307 (W.D. Wash. 1994) (rejecting a challenge to the scope of the federal government’s discretion in adopting the legislation); Kristin Carden, Bridging the Divide: The Role of Science in Species Conservation Law, 30 Harv. Envtl. L. Rev. 165, 245­–48 (2006).

 [252]. Schiffer & Heep, supra note 55, at 577.

 [253]. Id. at 582.

 [254]. Paul Koberstein, Will the Northwest Forest Plan Come Undone?, High Country News (Apr. 7, 2015), https://www.hcn.org/articles/will-the-northwest-forest-plan-come-undone.

 [255]. Schiffer & Heep, supra note 55, at 582. Charnley, supra note 136, at 286–87 (noting that the program met with mixed successes but suggesting that certain changes could have made it more successful); Michelle W. Anderson, The Western, Rural Rustbelt: Learning from Local Fiscal Crisis in Oregon, 50 Willamette L. Rev. 465, 503 (2014) (noting that NWFP’s job development programs, focused on common phenomenon of overlap between areas with economic hardship and areas with at-risk species, indicate that economic development should be cornerstone of environmental activism).

 [256]. Schiffer & Heep, supra note 55, at 577.

 [257]. Id. at 582.

 [258]. Carey Catherine Whitehead, Wielding a Finely Crafted Legal Scalpel: Why Courts Did Not Cause the Decline of the Pacific Northwest Timber Industry, 38 Envtl. L. 979, 1012 (2008) (discussing intermingled factors contributing to decline of regional timber industry, and economists’ struggle to separate effects of injunctions and general recession on regional timber industry).

 [259]. Koberstein, supra note 254.

 [260]. Id.

 [261]. Jack Ward Thomas et al., The Northwest Forest Plan: Origins, Components, Implementation Experience, and Suggestions for Change, 20 Conservation Biology 277, 283 (2006); see also Ted Helvoigt et al., Employment Transitions in Oregon’s Wood Products Sector During the 1990s, 101 J. Forestry 42, 42–46 (2003)              .

 [262]. Michael C. Blumm & Tim Wigington, The Past as Prologue to the Present Managing the Oregon and California Forest Lands, Or. St. B. Bull., July 2013, at 24, 25.

 [263]. Id. at 27.

 [264]. Anderson, supra note 255, at 470.

 [265]. Blumm & Wiginton, supra note 262, at 29.

 [266]. Craig P. Raysor, From the Sword to the Pen: A History and Current Analysis of U.S. Tobacco Marketing Regulations, 13 Drake J. Agric. L. 497, 512, 525 (2008) (noting inter alia problem of non-diversification of tobacco farms in early twentieth century).

 [267]. See id. See generally Juliana v. United States, 339 F. Supp. 3d 1062 (D. Or. 2018).

 [268]. 7 C.F.R. § 1463.1 (2018); Ryan D. Dreveskracht, Forfeiting Federalism: The Faustian Pact with Big Tobacco, 18 Rich. J.L. & Pub. Int. 291, 308 (2015).

 [269]. Dreveskracht, supra note 268, at 308; see also Tobacco Transition Payment Program: Examination Treatment of Assets Related to the Tobacco Transition Payment Program, Fed. Deposit Ins. Corp. (Aug. 3, 2005), https://www.fdic.gov/news/news/financial/2005/fil7305.html.

 [270]. Tobacco Transition Payment Program, supra note 269; see also Fair and Equitable Tobacco Reform Act of 2004, Pub. L. No. 108-357, 118 Stat. 1521 (codified at 7 U.S.C. § 518 (2012)); Joseph C. Robert, The Story of Tobacco in America 210 (1949).

 [271]. See, e.g., Tobacco Transition Payment Program, U.S. Dep’t of Agric., https://www.fsa.usda.gov/FSA/webapp?area=home&subject=toba&topic=landing (last updated Jan. 30, 2013).

 [272]. See generally Helen Pushkarskaya & Maria I Marshall, Lump Sum Versus Annuity: Choices of Kentucky Farmers During the Tobacco Buyout Program, 41 J. Agric. and Applied Econ. 613, 614 (2009).

 [273]. 5 West’s Fed. Admin. Prac. Income Support Programs—Tobacco § 5510, Westlaw (database updated July 2018) [hereinafter Income Support Programs—Tobacco].

 [274]. 7 U.S.C. § 518b (2012).

 [275]. Income Support Programs—Tobacco, supra note 273.

 [276]. Nathan Bomey, Thousands of Farmers Stopped Growing Tobacco After Deregulation Payouts, USA Today (Sept. 2, 2015), https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2015/09/02/thousands-farmers-stopped-growing-tobacco-after-deregulation-payouts/32115163.

 [277]. Id.

 [278]. Id.

 [279]. Dreveskracht, supra note 268, at 312.

 [280]. Blake Brown, The End of the Tobacco Transition Payment Program, N.C. St. Univ. (Nov. 14, 2013), https://tobacco.ces.ncsu.edu/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/The-End-of-the-Tobacco-Transition-Payment-Program.pdf?fwd=no.

 [281]. Press Release, Office of the Press Sec’y, Fact Sheet: Administration Announces New Economic and Workforce Development Resources for Coal Communities Through POWER Initiative (Aug. 24, 2016), https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2016/08/24/fact-sheet-administration-announces-new-economic-and-workforce.

 [282]. POWER Initiative, Appalachian Regional. Commission (last visited Feb. 5, 2019), https://www.arc.gov/funding/power.asp; ARC Seeks Funds for Coal-Impacted Communities, Fayette Trib. (Feb. 5, 2018), http://www.fayettetribune.com/news/arc-seeks-funds-for-coal-impacted-communities/article_cbae624e-09dc-11e8-896a-1f98f0f3a842.html.

 [283]. Appalachian Reg’l. Comm’n, FY 2019 Performance Budget Justification 5 (2018), https://www.arc.gov/images/newsroom/publications/fy2019budget/FY2019PerformanceBudgetFeb2018.pdf.

 [284]. POWER Initiative, supra note 282; see also Appalachian Reg’l Comm’n, POWER Awards, October 2018, https://www.arc.gov/images/grantsandfunding/POWER2018
/ARCEconDiversificationAwardsSummaries10-11-2018.pdf.

 [285]. Richard L. Revesz, Regulation and Distribution, 93 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 1489, 155055 (2018) (discussing both failed and implemented congressional and executive efforts to assist coal communities and workers, including the POWER Initiative (implemented), POWER Plus (failed), the Abandoned Mine Land Economic Revitalization (“AMLER”) Program (failed), and the Revitalizing the Economy of Coal Communities by Leveraging Local Activities and Investing More (“RECLAIM”) Act (failed)).

 [286]. Malcom Bale & John Mutti, Income Losses, Compensation, and International Trade, 13 J. Hum. Resources 278, 280 (1978).

 [287]. Id.

 [288]. Brown, supra note 280.

 [289]. See Council of Econ. Advisers, Strengthening the Rural Economy—The Current State of Rural America, White House: President Barack Obama (Apr. 27, 2010), https://obamawhitehouse
.archives.gov/administration/eop/cea/factsheets-reports/strengthening-the-rural-economy/the-current-state-of-rural-america.

 [290]. See U.S. Dep’t of Labor, Current Employment Statistics Survey: 100 Years of Employment, Hours, and Earnings, Bureau Lab. Stat. (Aug. 2016), https://doi.org/10.21916/mlr.2016.38.

 [291]. See Reihan Salam, Taxi-Driver Suicides Are a Warning, Atlantic (June 5, 2018), https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2018/06/taxi-driver-suicides-are-a-warning/561926.

 [292]. Phil McCausland, Sixth New York City Cab Driver Dies of Suicide After Struggling Financially, NBC News (June 16, 2018), https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886; Nikita Stewart & Luis Ferré-Sadurní, Another Taxi Driver in Debt Takes His Life. That’s 5 in 5 Months., N.Y. Times (May 27, 2018), https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/27/nyregion/taxi-driver-suicide-nyc.html.

 [293]. Henry Goldman, Hyperdrive: NYC Is Set to Impose a Cap on Uber, Bloomberg (Aug. 6, 2018), https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-08-06/nyc-set-to-impose-cap-on-uber-as-ride-hail-vehicles-clog-streets.

 [294]. See Just Transition: A Framework for Change, Climate Just. Alliance, https://climatejusticealliance.org/just-transition (Last visited Feb. 6, 2019) (listing gentrification as scenario warranting just transition considerations).

 [295]. See Ramo & Behles, supra note 84, at 509.

 [296]. Id. at 509–10.

 [297]. Id. at 510.

 [298]. Id. at 512–13.

 [299]. Id. at 515.

 [300]. Id. at 513.

 [301]. Id. at 517.

 [302]. Id. at 520.

 [303]. Id.

 [304]. Id.

 [305]. Id. at 519.

 [306]. Id. at 521.

 [307]. Id. at 525–26.

 [308]. See id. at 522.

 [309]. Id. at 523–25.

 [310]. Id. at 526.

 [311]. See, e.g., J. Mijin Cha, Labor Leading on Climate: A Policy Platform to Addressing Rising Inequality and Rising Sea Levels in New York State, 34 Pace Envtl. L. Rev. 423, 447 (2017) (citing Mohave example as positive outcome).

 [312]. Eisenberg, Alienation and Reconciliation, supra note 18, at 138.

 [313]. Id.

 [314]. See generally Ky. Ctr. for Econ. Dev., Just the Facts: Kentucky Business Investment Program (2018), http://thinkkentucky.com/kyedc/pdfs/KBIFactSheet.pdf?57.

 [315]. Parija Kavilanz, How This Kentucky Coal Town Is Trying to Bring its Economy Back to Life, CNN (Nov. 8, 2017), https://money.cnn.com/2017/11/08/news/economy/hazard-kentucky-coal-jobs
/index.html.

 [316]. Slav Kornik, Alberta Puts Up $40M to Help Workers Transition During Coal-Power Phase-Out, Global News (Nov. 10, 2017), https://globalnews.ca/news/3855043/alberta-puts-up-40m-to-help-workers-transition-during-coal-power-phase-out; see also A Just Transition: The Way Forward for Coal Communities, Energy Transition (Feb. 20, 2017), https://energytransition.org/2017/02/a-just-transition-the-way-forward-for-coal-communities (discussing transitions for coal communities in Germany).

 [317]. See Joshua Macey & Jackson Salovaara, Bankruptcy as Bailout: Coal, Chapter 11, and the Erosion of Federal Law, 71 Stan. L. Rev. 137 passim (2019); see also Eisenberg, Beyond Science and Hysteria, supra note 145, at 207.

 [318]. See Macey & Salovaara, supra note 317 passim.

 [319]. See, e.g., Katy Stech Ferek, Coal Company Armstrong Energy Files for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy Protection, Wall St. J. (Nov. 1, 2017), https://www.wsj.com/articles/coal-company-armstrong-energy-files-for-chapter-11-bankruptcy-protection-1509548753.

 [320]. Ethan Lipsig & Keith R. Fentonmiller, A WARN Act Road Map, 11 Lab. Law. 273, 273 (1996).

 [321]. Nicole C. Snyder & Scott E. Randolph, Understanding the Federal WARN Act and Its Impact on the Sale of A Business, 52 Advocate 29, 29 (2009).

 [322]. Id.

 [323]. Lipsig & Fentonmiller, supra note 320, at 273.

Justice or Just Us?: SFFA v. Harvard and Asian Americans in Affirmative Action – Note by Cynthia Chiu

From Volume 92, Number 2 (January 2019)
DOWNLOAD PDF


 

Justice or Just Us?:
SFFA v. Harvard and Asian Americans in Affirmative Action

Cynthia Chiu[*]

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. The Current Affirmative Action STANDARD

II. The Role of Asian Americans in
Affirmative Action

A. History of Asian Americans and Affirmative Action

B. A History of Discrimination Against Asian Americans

C. The Racial Bourgeoisie

III. STUDENTS FOR FAIR ADMISSIONS V. HARVARD

A. The Procedural History and Current Status of
SFFA v. Harvard

B. SFFA’s Arguments

1. Count I: Harvard Intentionally Discriminates Against
Asian Americans

2. Count II: Harvard Engages in Racial Balancing

3. Count III: Harvard Considers Race as More than Just
a “Plus Factor”

4. Count V: Harvard Has Failed to Show There Are
no Workable Race-Neutral Alternatives

D. Criticisms of SFFA’s Arguments

1. The Arguments in the Complaint Are Flawed

2. Logical Fallacies

IV. Asian Americans and Affirmative Action
in the Future

A. Diversity Re-Evaluated

B. Unity with Other Minorities

Conclusion

 

INTRODUCTION

Here is what I sometimes suspect my face signifies to other Americans: an invisible person, barely distinguishable from a mass of faces that resemble it. A conspicuous person standing apart from the crowd and yet devoid of any individuality. An icon of so much that the culture pretends to honor but that it in fact patronizes and exploits. Not just people “who are good at math” and play the violin, but a mass of stifled, repressed, abused, conformist quasi-robots who simply do not matter, socially or culturally.[1]

I can recall excitedly filling out my college applications in the fall of 2010. I can recall writing my application essay about my experience at a private, all-girls Catholic high school. I can recall being told to volunteer more and to join speech and debate. I can recall being told that playing four years of varsity tennis would make me appear more well-rounded. I can recall being told to not check the “Asian” box when the application asked for my ethnicity. At eighteen years old, this sounds like being told it is better to be anything besides exactly who you are. I can recall feeling that it was not enough to be the daughter of a first-generation immigrant from China and the granddaughter of Japanese American citizens interned during World War II.[2] The appropriate box for me was apparently “Other.”[3]

This revelation about my own experience was necessary to understand the frustration felt by the Asian American community regarding college admissions. While this frustration may be well-founded, the Asian American community is not unified on what the appropriate reaction to it should be. On one hand, the model minority myth[4] perpetuates a stereotype that portrays Asian Americans as successful. But on the other hand, Asian Americans feel wide-spread discrimination that goes unrecognized due to an image of them as achievers of the “American Dream.” This places Asian Americans in a precarious middle ground as a “racial bourgeoisie”[5]stuck between being viewed as “superior” but feeling inferior. Asian Americans should be cautioned, though, that serving in this racial middle ground runs the risk of “reinforc[ing] white supremacy if the middle deludes itself into thinking it can be just like white if it tries hard enough.”[6] Asian Americans have long been left out of the whiteblack affirmative action debate, and this opportunity to speak out should not be tarnished by being used as a tool to further white images at elite universities.

This Note examines the arguments made in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard College, which allege that Harvard’s consideration of race is a violation of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 because it is not narrowly tailored to a compelling interest of diversity.[7] The complaint filed by Students for Fair Admissions (“SFFA”)[8] came off the back of Justice Alito’s comments in his dissent in Fisher v. University of Texas at Austin (Fisher II), which proposed the possibility that Asian Americans may face discrimination in admissions.[9] While this was an important inclusion of Asian Americans in the discussion, Justice Alito’s comments in Fisher II perpetuated the logical fallacy that Asian Americans[10] are losing admission spots to African Americans and Hispanic Americans due to affirmative action, and may have encouraged the initiation of SFFA’s action against Harvard College. However, while the frustration experienced by many in the Asian American community over what feels like racial ceilings on Asian American admissions at elite universities is valid, these ceilings are the result of negative action aimed against Asian Americans, not the result of affirmative action. Prohibiting universities from considering race as part of a holistic admissions process will not eliminate the negative action felt by Asian Americans.

SFFA’s use of Asian Americans to target affirmative action is a parallel to the double movement that occurred in the nineteenth century. While there was a movement toward inclusion based on increased egalitarianism among white males to reduce barriers based on wealth and property ownership, there was also a movement toward exclusion of African Americans, women, Native Americans, and non-white immigrants.[11] SFFA and the organization’s creator, Edward Blum, move to include Asian Americans as part of the group deemed worthy enough to “earn” spots at elite universities only to maintain the dominance needed to continue to exclude other groups. The status that is ascribed to different groups comes with a series of stereotypes and associations that the larger, dominant group naturalizes to determine whether the group is eligible for certain benefits, like admission to elite universities.[12] Asian Americans should be wary about their sudden inclusion in this larger group, when they had for so long been denied eligibility for status as citizens and still continue to be given the stereotype of “perpetual foreigner.”[13] Similar to the poor white males of the nineteenth century, the inclusion of Asian Americans could simply be used to maintain the dominance of wealthy white[14] males and to perpetuate a “white image” in elite universities.

Part I of this Note examines the current standard of affirmative action: that the only acceptable justification for race-conscious admissions policies is one of educational diversity. Part II discusses the role of Asian Americans in the affirmative action discussion, with an understanding that Asian Americans have been subject to unrecognized historical discrimination and treated as a “racial bourgeoisie”[15] due to perpetuation of the model minority myth. Part III describes the background and status of SFFA v. Harvard, analyzes the complaint’s arguments, including those made at trial, and criticizes the bases for the complaint. Part IV suggests that the future role of Asian Americans in the affirmative action discussion is one of increased political activeness and unity and argues for a change in the way elite universities value Asian American diversity when assessing applicants in a holistic process.

I.  The Current Affirmative Action STANDARD

All racial classifications are subject to strict scrutiny, even where the classification is non-invidious as it is for affirmative action. This requires the means to be narrowly tailored to a compelling government interest.[16] For affirmative action, Regents of the University of California v. Bakke established that diversity, through its educational benefits, is a compelling state interest under strict scrutiny analysis.[17] Diversity was originally conceived as simply racial diversity; however, Justice Powell’s majority opinion in Bakke advocates for a diversity that goes beyond race to include diversity of ideas, opinions, and backgrounds in order to improve the educational experience.[18] The Court explicitly bans the use of a quota system where race is used as a dispositive factor in admissions, but it permits race to be used as one of many factors in the diversity consideration.[19] There is a clear rejection of race being used as a permissible factor in admissions as a means to remedy past discrimination; instead, the Court focuses on the instrumental justification, which states that race can provide educational benefits by accepting candidates with diverse experiences. Justice Powell specifically cites to Harvard’s admissions policy, which uses race as one of many “plus factors, in a holistic consideration of an applicant, as a permissible example of a policy that would allow an institution to maintain freedom in its academic goals.[20]

Justice Powell’s opinion in Bakke created the blueprint for the Court in Grutter v. Bollinger to firmly establish that diversity is the only justification for race-conscious admissions policies that would satisfy strict scrutiny.[21] The Court continued to recognize that there were educational benefits[22] from diversity that could satisfy a compelling government interest.[23] Grutter determined that admissions policies seeking to obtain a “critical mass” of diverse students were not a violation of the prohibitions against racial balancing and proportional representation.[24] Critical mass does not refer to a specific quota or percentage, but refers to “meaningful numbers” sufficient to “encourage[] underrepresented minority students to participate in the classroom and not feel isolated.[25] The Court gives institutions of higher education deference in deciding whether they need diversity to pursue their educational mission.[26] Once the university determines diversity to be one of its educational goals, a race-conscious admissions policy is permissible only if race is used as merely a “plus factor in the context of a holistic process that involves individualized consideration.[27] Individualized consideration allows a university to balance academic selectivity with the need for diversity, without sacrificing academic excellence in attempts to achieve race-neutral alternatives.[28] Grutter established that “narrow tailoring . . . require[s] serious, good faith consideration of workable race-neutral alternatives that will achieve the diversity the university seeks.”[29] However, what this goodfaith consideration would require and whether the threshold of critical mass for a university would be given deference were not addressed until Fisher v. University of Texas (Fisher I).[30]

Fisher I established that universities must show that the means used to achieve their diversity interest are narrowly tailored, as the court will not simply defer to the university on this issue.[31] To satisfy the narrowly tailored requirement, a university must show its admissions policy is necessary to achieve the educational benefits of diversity and that no race-neutral alternative is workable.[32] The Court in Fisher I ordered the University of Texas at Austin to show that they had exhausted race-neutral alternatives and reviewed the findings in Fisher II.[33] In Fisher II, the Court determined that the University of Texas at Austin had to show that a critical mass had not already been achieved through its race-neutral Top Ten Percent Plan.[34] However, the University of Texas’s goals did not need to be a precise number because a critical mass of diversity is qualitative, not quantitative.[35] The Court ultimately gave deference to the university’s goodfaith efforts to achieve diversity and accepted the argument that the university had not achieved critical mass.[36] Although Fisher I seemed to be arguing that the Court would require proof that there were no workable race-neutral alternatives, the Court in Fisher II seemed to give deference to the university on whether the race-neutral alternatives were good enough, or “workable,” to achieve its diversity goals.[37] This leaves the state of affirmative action in a similar place to where it was in Grutter.

Grutter’s conception of diversity is the current model[38] under which affirmative action is able to fulfill the function of a compelling interest,[39] but this has several limitations. Grutter specifically connects the value of diversity to education,[40] while also inflating the idea of critical mass as something that can be both a quantitatively meaningful number and a means of addressing diversity’s qualitative benefits.[41] It pursues diversity for its instrumental value and rejects any remedial justification, leading to the conception of diversity as one of integration rather than an effort to provide equal opportunity.[42] It does not distinguish “exploitative” from “egalitarian” objectives, which creates an equal opportunity problem—one that will continue to exist so long as there are hindrances unique to minorities that prevent any given admission “spot” from being fungible.[43]

II.  The Role of Asian Americans in Affirmative Action

Asian Americans have a complicated history with affirmative action that has developed into a divided stance on the topic within the Asian American community.[44] Adding to this complexity is the difficulty in establishing whether the objective of affirmative action is to seek equality in outcomes for a racial group or equality in opportunity for individual applicants.[45] For Asian Americans, the way in which the purpose of affirmative action is conceived greatly impacts what “side” of the debate feels fair.[46] There is confusion among the Asian American community about what affirmative action actually entails, leading some to misplace blame for what may be “hidden quotas to keep down Asian admissions” on affirmative action policies.[47] The misunderstanding of affirmative action within the Asian American community may stem from several legitimate concerns, involving a combination of an unrecognized history of discrimination in the United States, the role of Asian Americans as a “racial bourgeoisie,”[48] the perpetuation of the model minority myth, negative action policies, and the stereotype of Asian Americans as a “reticent minority.”[49]

A.  History of Asian Americans and Affirmative Action

Affirmative action was first enacted in a federal program under President Lyndon B. Johnson’s Executive Order 11246 as an “affirmative step” in remedying a history of excluding minority workers, including Asian Americans, from employment in contracting firms that accepted federal funding.[50] In the educational context, affirmative action programs led to significant increases in enrollment for African Americans, Hispanic Americans, and Asian Americans.[51] However, following the decision in Bakke, the growth in enrollment for African Americans and Hispanic Americans stopped and retreats from affirmative action programs swept the country.[52]

The flexible, “holistic” review idealized by the Harvard Plan[53] led to admissions programs that considered race without using strict quotas; some Asian Americans believed that this created an admissions ceiling, as Asian American admissions rates reached a constant plateau.[54]

In the most recent affirmative action decision in Fisher II, a significant number of amicus briefs were filed in support of the University of Texas at Austin’s admissions policy and diversity goals, including some by several Asian American organizations.[55] However, the Asian American Legal Foundation and the Asian American Coalition for Education (claiming to represent 117 Asian American organizations) filed an amicus brief in support of Abigail Fisher, indicating an increasing divide within the Asian American community on the issue of affirmative action.[56]

B.  A History of Discrimination Against Asian Americans

There is a tendency for the historical discrimination against Asian Americans to go unrecognized due to a perpetuation of the model minority myth. The model minority myth paints Asian Americans as successful, particularly in an educational context, and as immigrants who have achieved the American dream. This conception of Asian Americans is problematic because it creates racial dissonance between Asian Americans and other minorities by implying that the barriers to success do not stem from systematic and structural oppression of some groups, but rather from individuals within a minority group failing to progress. The model minority myth is dangerous because it is used to underscore institutional racism while simultaneously de-emphasizing Asian American success.[57] In addition, Asian Americans are not a monolithic group, and many ethnicities within the Asian American community have different experiences and suffer inequality in income and corporate hierarchies in different ways.

For much of the nineteenth century, Asian Americans were subject to exclusionary immigration laws.[58] Naturalization rights were not granted to people of Asian ancestry until the mid-twentieth century[59]1943 for Chinese, 1946 for Asian Indians and Filipinos, and 1952 for all other Asians.[60] Even for those born in the United States, the Fourteenth Amendment did not allow citizenship for Asian Americans until 1898,[61] and this was challenged as recently as 1942.[62] Though not to the same extent as African Americans, Asian Americans were affected by segregation laws and anti-miscegenation laws as well.[63] In addition, the Alien Land Laws forbade Asians from owning land by prohibiting “aliens ineligible for citizenship” from owning property.[64] Asian Americans were also subjected to targeted discrimination by all levels of government, from San Francisco’s laundry licensing authority which allowed white laundries to stay open while closing Chinese laundries[65] to the federal governmentsanctioned internment of more than 120,000 people of Japanese descent during World War II.[66]

Even though the Supreme Court has, in some instances, struck down laws racially prejudicial against Asian Americans, societal prejudice remains a constant issue. In 1982, two white men in Detroit murdered Vincent Chin, a Chinese-American man, because they thought he was Japanese and were upset over American automakers losing business to the Japanese auto industry.[67] In 1992, the killer of Japanese student Yoshihiro Hattori was acquitted on the basis of “reasonable” self-defense arguments,[68] but the validity of the self-defense claims were based on the jury’s racial prejudice in determining what a reasonable threat was.[69] In some cities, such as Boston and Philadelphia, as recently as the 1990s, Asian Americans suffered the highest per capita hate crime rate of all racial minorities.[70] Today, Asian Americans continue to be the target of discrimination and hate crimes.[71] Racist actions and violence against Asian Americans have seen a disturbing increase recently.[72] These hate crimes tend to be perpetuated by stereotypes of Asian “foreignness”[73] and create fear within the Asian American community that stretches beyond the immediate victims.

C.  The Racial Bourgeoisie

University of Hawaii Law Professor Mari Matsuda writes of Asian Americans being a “racial bourgeoisie”:

If white, as it has been historically, is the top of the racial hierarchy in America, and black, historically, is the bottom, will yellow assume the place of the racial middle? The role of the racial middle is a critical one. It can reinforce white supremacy if the middle deludes itself into thinking it can be just like white if it tries hard enough. Conversely, the middle can dismantle white supremacy if it refuses to be the middle, if it refuses to buy into racial hierarchy, and if it refuses to abandon communities of black and brown people, choosing instead to forge alliances with them.[74]

As a racial bourgeoisie, Asian Americans could take on a significant role in the affirmative action discussion. The danger of a racial bourgeoisie is that it places Asian Americans as “middlem[e]n,” too different to be white but not different enough to be “true minorities.”[75] “Racial triangulation” of Asian Americans describes the view in American society that places Asians in a middle ground between whites and African Americans on a level of superiority but on the opposite end of the spectrum from both groups in a level of “foreignness.”[76] This conception of Asian Americans as “perpetual foreigners”[77] means that it is easy to discount them, which allows people to place blame on Asian Americans for acts attributable to actual foreigners.[78]

Part of what enables Asian Americans to be a racial bourgeoisie is the perpetuation of the model minority myth.[79] This conception of Asian Americans as a “model minority” not only unfairly criticizes other minorities, but it also is based on false premises that lead to the diminution of those Asian American individuals who achieve success in the face of great adversity.[80] The dangers of the model minority myth and the conception of Asian Americans as too different to be a true minority are that they create the assumption that Asian Americans cannot face discrimination. However, not only do Asian Americans continue to face racial violence,[81] but they also face negative action in admissions policies. While Asian Americans have benefited and continue to benefit from affirmative action,[82] the creation of ceilings on Asian Americans, particularly in university admissions policies, is a separate, unrelated issue that works to keep Asian Americans in a racial bourgeoisie.[83] No amount of success that is perceived to be enjoyed by Asian Americans through the stereotype of the model minority myth should be used to defend any use of negative action, and while Asian Americans may not merit affirmative action preferences, they should be subject to the same “neutral action” associated with white applicants. A misunderstanding of the distinction between negative action and affirmative action has led many in the Asian American community to use statistics that indicate Asian Americans require higher test scores to get into the same colleges as applicants of other races in order to oppose affirmative action.[84] While there may be legitimate concern over intentional caps against Asian Americans, it should not allow the Asian American community to be confused by the goals and outcomes of affirmative action. It should be the goal of the Asian American community to prevent our own personal experiences from being manipulated into promoting outcomes that ultimately seek to maintain a “white image.”[85]

III.  STUDENTS FOR FAIR ADMISSIONS V. HARVARD

In the 1920s, people asked: will Harvard still be Harvard with so many Jews? Today we ask: will Harvard still be Harvard with so many Asians? Yale’s student population is 58 percent white and 18 percent Asian. Would it be such a calamity if those numbers were reversed?[86]

SFFA filed an action against Harvard College, alleging the use of racially discriminatory policies in violation of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.[87] To successfully challenge Harvard College’s admission policy under Title VI, SFFA must establish discriminatory intent, mirroring the constitutional standard, rather than the disparate impact standard.[88] Although the plaintiff originally argued six counts for relief, the suit ultimately relies on four main reasons that Harvard’s admission policy is racially discriminatory: (1) uses racial “quotas,” (2) engage[s] in racial balancing,” (3) fail[s] to use race merely as a plus factor’” in its undergraduate admissions process, and (4) fails to use race-neutral alternatives sufficient to achieve Harvard’s diversity goals.[89] SFFA asserts that it has “at least one member . . . who applied for and was denied admission to Harvard’s 2014 entering class.”[90] This unnamed applicant is described as being Asian American, having parents who are first-generation immigrants from China; graduating with a ranking of one out of 460 students in a high school that U.S. News and World Report places in the top 5 percent in the United States; obtaining a perfect score of 36 on the ACT; and being named an AP Scholar with Distinction, a National Scholar, and a National Merit Scholarship Finalist.[91] In addition to the applicant’s academic achievements, this applicant was

captain of the varsity tennis team, volunteered at a community tennis camp, volunteered for the high school’s student peer tutoring program, was a volunteer fundraiser for National Public Radio, and traveled to China as part of a program organized by the United States Consulate General and Chinese American Students Education and Exchange to assist students in learning English writing and presentation skills.[92]

The Harvard admissions process involves application evaluations by a first reader, a docket chair, and a final review by the full forty-person admissions committee.[93] When first readers review an application, they give numerical scores in the following categories: overall, academic, extracurricular, athletic, personal, teacher recommendations, school support recommendation, staff interview ratings, and alumni interview ratings.[94] The personal rating is based on the admissions officer’s “assessment of the applicant’s ‘humor, sensitivity, grit, leadership, integrity, helpfulness, courage, kindness and many other qualities.’”[95] The overall rating represents the officer’s view of the application as a whole, but instead of being determined “by a formula [or] . . . adding up the other ratings,” the first readers simply take “all the factors into account,” including race.[96] Once the full committee meets and makes its decisions, the dean and director confirm the final target of admitted students and consult a “one-pager” with race, gender, geographic region, and other statistics about the potential new class to determine whether some applicant need to “lopped” from the admitted list.[97]

In 2013, Harvard’s Office of Institutional Research (OIR) produced an internal report showing that the admission rate for Asian Americans was highest where the criteria for admission was solely based on academics and progressively decreased the more variables that were added.[98] In OIR’s second report, it found that the only category in which non-legacy, non-athlete white applicants performed significantly better than their similarly situated Asian American applicants was the personal rating, but the report failed to explain why.[99] This second report also found that non-legacy, non-athlete white applicants were admitted at higher rates than non-legacy, non-athlete Asia American applicants with the same academic scores and further concluded that Asian Americans were the only racial group with a negative association between being admitted and their race.[100] In 2015, Harvard established a Committee to Study the Importance of Student Body Diversity, which concluded in its report that student body diversity creates positive impacts and “is fundamental to the effective education of the men and women of Harvard College.”[101] In 2017, Harvard established the Smith Committee, which was dedicated to study whether race-neutral alternatives were workable for achieving the benefits concluded in the 2015 committee.[102] The Smith Committee concluded that there were no workable race-neutral alternatives that would allow Harvard to achieve the benefits of educational diversity without sacrificing other important educational objectives.[103]

An important step in understanding this case requires a closer look into SFFA and its goals. The President of SFFA, Edward Blum, has been instrumental in challenging affirmative action and voting rights laws in more than two dozen lawsuits.[104] He orchestrated Fisher I and II[105] as well as Shelby County v. Holder,[106] which successfully contested the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Blum challenges “racial policies he thinks are unfair” under the names of his several organizations, including SFFA, which have been criticized as being nothing more than Blum’s own “alter ego.”[107] Blum’s work from 2010 to 2015 received $2.9 million from several non-profits and the DonorsTrust, which distributes money from conservative and libertarian contributors, leading many to consider Blum a “tool of rich conservatives trying to extinguish efforts to help historically oppressed minorities overcome the long shadow of racism.”[108] Given the background of Blum, it seems likely that the overall goal of SFFA and Blum seems to be to eliminate race-conscious admissions policies altogether, not just negative action against Asian Americans.

A.  The Procedural History and Current Status of SFFA v. Harvard

Since the complaint was filed in November 2014, future applicants and current students at Harvard petitioned to intervene as defendants but were denied and subsequently given amicus status.[109] The presiding judge, Judge Allison D. Burroughs, determined that each side would have a ten to twelve month discovery process, beginning in May 2015 but denied SFFA’s explicit request for access to Harvard admissions data.[110] The case was temporarily stayed in anticipation of the Supreme Court’s ruling on Fisher II.[111] However, in September 2016, Judge Burroughs ordered that Harvard provide six cycles of admissions data as well as any information relating to any internal or external investigations into allegations of discrimination against Asian Americans in the undergraduate admissions process.[112]

Both sides have filed several motions to seal that have been granted by the Judge Burroughs, thus limiting the amount of evidence that is available to the public at this time.[113] Harvard filed a motion to dismiss for lack of subject matter jurisdiction in September 2016 that was denied in June 2017.[114] However, in June 2017, Judge Burroughs did grant Harvard’s motion for partial judgment on the pleadings of Count IV and VI, which respectively claimed violations based on Harvard’s failure to use race to merely fill the “last few spots” in an incoming class and “any use of race as a factor in admissions.”[115]

In September 2017, the Department of Justice (“DOJ”) formally notified Harvard that it was under investigation for its use of race in its admissions policies.[116] The DOJ’s Civil Rights Division sent a letter to Harvard on November 17, 2017, stating that Harvard was “not complying with its Title VI access requirements,” and if Harvard failed to provide the requested documents by December 1, 2018, the agency might file a lawsuit against the university.[117] Harvard challenged the agency’s authority to investigate and was willing to “provide the Justice Department with documents produced for the federal court case, ‘with redactions for relevance, privacy, and privilege/work product protection.’”[118] The core of the investigation was related to the same issues argued in the SFFA v. Harvard complaint. In 2015, the Obama administration dismissed the request to investigate without evaluating the merits due to the parallel lawsuit; however, in 2017, the Trump administration pursued the investigation, creating skepticism about the party divide and political motivations plaguing affirmative action policies.[119] In August 2018, the DOJ offered SFFA a public show of support through its statement of interest in court.[120] The DOJ did not make any conclusions of illegality, but it did urge the court to deny Harvard’s request for summary judgment.[121] From October to November 2018, Judge Burroughs heard oral arguments on the four remaining Counts, namely I, II, III, and V, from both SFFA and Harvard.[122] During the trial, there was a large reliance on student anecdotes and expert testimony, with SFFA using Peter S. Arcidiacono, an economics professor from Duke University,[123] and Richard D. Kahlenberg, a senior fellow at the Century Foundation,[124] and Harvard primarily relying on David E. Card, an economics professor from UC Berkeley.[125] In closing arguments, SFFA highlighted the expert testimony to demonstrate a “statistically significant Asian penalty,” while Harvard countered that SFFA had failed to prove any bias against Asian Americans but was instead a tool to take down “decades-old efforts toward racial diversity that enhances the educational experience.”[126] Although Judge Burroughs’s decision doesn’t have a definitive timeline, she is expected to release it in early 2019, and the decision is likely to be appealed by the losing side.[127] While a ruling at the district court in favor of SFFA would likely not eliminate the possibility of race-conscious admissions altogether, it could force Harvard, and other elite universities, to create policies that limit the consideration of race. It is quite possible the case could reach the Supreme Court of the United States, where the environment is drastically different from what it was when Fisher II was decided in 2016 given Justice Kennedy’s swing vote has been replaced by Justice Kavanaugh and the presidential administration’s view of affirmative action has shifted.[128]

B.  SFFA’s Arguments

SFFA makes several arguments describing why Harvard’s admissions policies are intentionally discriminatory on the basis of race and ethnicity in violation of Title VI. SFFA and Harvard filed a joint statement asking “that the requirement for a trial brief be stricken” based on their extensive summary judgment filings[129] and since SFFA’s motion for summary judgment was solely based on Counts I, II, III, and V of the complaint, which ultimately formed the basis of SFFA’s arguments at trial.[130] First, SFFA argues that Harvard’s holistic review process is historically discriminatory and is now being used to intentionally discriminate against Asian Americans.[131] Second, SFFA contends that Harvard is engaged in racial balancing based on evidence of stable admission percentages across races even as the application rates change over time.[132] Third, SFFA claims that Harvard’s pursuit of critical mass does not adhere to the Harvard Plan that was idealized in Bakke because it considers race as more than just a “plus factor.[133] SFFA argues that critical mass is an amorphous term that creates a delusion of pursuing diversity when it is really used “to achieve numerical goals indistinguishable from quotas” and results in race being used as more than just a plus factor.[134] Fourth, SFFA argues that Harvard’s race-conscious admissions policy is not narrowly tailored because there are race-neutral alternatives that could be used to achieve diversity based on policies used by other elite universities.[135]

1.  Count I: Harvard Intentionally Discriminates Against Asian Americans

In the first argument, SFFA contends that Harvard’s admissions policies were historically developed for “the specific purpose of discriminating against disfavored minority groups.”[136] SFFA points to the 1920s and 1930s when then Harvard President A. Lawrence Lowell placed a cap on Jewish enrollment through the use of an admissions system that was based on discretion rather than academic achievement.[137] Harvard began using legacy preferences and a subjective admissions system gauging “character and fitness and the promise of the greatest usefulness in the future as a result of a Harvard education” as strategies to reduce the number of Jewish students admitted.[138]

SFFA argues that Harvard’s current admissions plan uses the same subjective system to consider “race or ethnicity itself—not other factors that may be associated with race or ethnicity—[as] a distinguishing characteristic that warrants consideration in the admissions process” in order to create a quota of African American students.[139] SFFA goes on to claim that Harvard has a long history of intentional discrimination against Asian Americans, ranging from refusing to recognize Asian Americans as a minority by describing them as “over-represented” to holding Asian Americans to a higher standard of admissions.[140] In July 1988, the Office of Civil Rights of the U.S. Department of Education investigated the treatment of Asian American applicants at Harvard in comparison to white applicants and found that while Asian American applicants were accepted at a significantly lower rate than “similarly qualified” white applicants, the disparity was attributed to legacy preferences, not the byproduct of racial discrimination as claimed by SFFA.[141] SFFA continues by referencing the EspenshadeRadford study[142] on the role of race in elite undergraduate admissions, which found that “AsianAmerican students were dramatically less likely to be admitted than otherwise similar students who identified themselves as white or Caucasian.”[143] SFFA also cites to Ron Unz’s study[144] which found “sheer constancy of [Asian American enrollment] percentages, with almost every year from 1995-2011 showing an Asian enrollment within a single point of the 16.5 percent average, despite high fluctuations in the numbers of applications and the inevitable uncertainty surrounding which students will accept admission,” and this “exactly replicates the historical pattern . . . in which Jewish enrollment rose very rapidly, leading to the imposition of an informal quota system, after which the numbers fell substantially, and thereafter remained constant for decades.”[145] SFFA then cites to studies indicating that elite schools with race-neutral admissions policies have higher Asian American enrollment, with a table comparing Asian American enrollment at Harvard and the California Institute of Technology.[146] The complaint also refers to personal anecdotes of admission staff at Harvard and other elite universities, college counselors, and Asian American applicants, describing how “Asian Americans face difficulty because they cannot distinguish themselves within their community.”[147]

During the trial, each party relied on its own expert reports “to show the presence or absence of a negative effect of being Asian American on the likelihood of admission, highlight[ed] the purported flaws of its opponent’s statistical analysis, and claim[ed] that there is substantial—or zero—documentary and testimonial evidence of discriminatory intent.”[148] SFFA specifically relied on Arcidiacono’s testimony which concluded that Harvard gave lower personal ratings to Asian Americans at every level of academic achievement than applicants of all other racial groups and further showed that among applicants with the same overall rating, Asian Americans were the least likely to be admitted.[149] However, Harvard’s expert, Card, reviewed the same admissions data but found “no negative effect of being Asian American on the likelihood of admission to Harvard” because disparities were due to Asian American applications being “slightly less strong than those submitted by White applicants across a range of observable non-academic measures.”[150] Arcidiacono and Card reach different results from the same data due to divergent modeling choices, with Card criticizing Arcidiacono for excluding certain applicant information.[151] SFFA also uses the Harvard OIR reports to indicate that Harvard’s own internal research division found results consistent with Arcidiacono then took no further steps to investigate the potential bias, but Harvard claims that Card’s more comprehensive and reliable study contradicts the OIR report.[152] Lastly, SFFA uses personal anecdotes, specifically from an OIR employee and alumni interviewers, to demonstrate discriminatory intent, but Harvard asserts that statements made by non-decisionmakers or decisionmakers not involved in the process are insufficient to demonstrate discriminatory animus.[153]

2.  Count II: Harvard Engages in Racial Balancing

In the second argument, SFFA contends that Harvard’s current admissions policy engages in “racial balancing” in order to ensure a fixed quota of Asian American enrollees or proportional representation in its student body.[154] SFFA points to statistical data indicating that the racial demographics of Harvard’s admissions and enrollment have remained stable over approximately the last decade,[155] despite fluctuations in application rates.[156] SFFA contends the following:

[B]etween 2003 and 2012, the percentage of Asian Americans at Harvard wavered only slightly above and below approximately 17 percent. . . . [D]espite the fact that, by 2008, Asian Americans made up over 27 percent of Harvard’s applicant pool, and approximately 46 percent of applicants with academic credentials in the range from which Harvard admits the overwhelming majority of students.[157]

SFFA points to the “one-pagers” that provide statistics of the present representation of various racial groups as compared to the prior year as proof of Harvard’s quota for Asian Americans.[158] SFFA alleges that Harvard reconsiders applications from particular groups after receiving the one-pager in order to align the current class demographics with the prior year, which would effectively create a cap on Asian American enrollment regardless of the application rate or level of qualifications.[159] In the “lopping” process, the admissions committee allegedly takes into account the applicant’s race and whether it is currently underrepresented in the prospective class.[160] Harvard contends that the one-pagers break down applicants not only by race but also by gender, geography, intended concentration, legacy status, socioeconomic status, and other categories.[161] Harvard argues that the lopping process is an unbiased, necessary part of a process that involves an “overabundance of qualified applicants” for a limited availability of spots.[162] While SFFA points to a somewhat consistent admitted class breakdown for each racial group to show racial quotas, Harvard counters by claiming that there was a significant 11% increase in Asian American enrollment when it went from 18% (Class of 2014) to 20% (Class of 2017).[163]

3.  Count III: Harvard Considers Race as More than Just a “Plus Factor”

In its third argument, SFFA claims that Harvard is not considering race for the purpose of achieving “critical mass” because it considers race as more than just a “plus factor.[164] Although the Supreme Court gives deference to a university in determining if diversity is part of their educational goals and deference in determining if critical mass has already been achieved, SFFA argues that Harvard’s admissions policy fails in its methods for attaining educational diversity because they are not narrowly tailored to a goal of reaching critical mass.[165] In addition, SFFA argues that since Harvard is not pursuing a goal of critical mass, the race-conscious admissions could be used in perpetuity even though there may be some point in time where the “use of racial preferences will no longer be necessary to further the interest” in diversity.[166] Harvard has an obligation to “continually reassess its need for race-conscious review,” but Harvard claims that the Smith Committee evaluated the current need for race-conscious admissions and a re-evaluation would be done again five years after the Smith Committee issued its report.[167]

SFFA argues that Harvard uses race as more than just a “plus factor.”[168] However, Harvard counters with testimony from Card stating that the variability in admissions is better explained by an applicant’s academic, athletic, extracurricular, and personal ratings, rather than race.[169] Similar to the arguments for Count I, the outcome of this issue is heavily dependent on which expert is given greater credibility and the reliability of the anecdotal testimony of admissions office employees.

4.  Count V: Harvard Has Failed to Show There Are no Workable Race-Neutral Alternatives

In its last argument, SFFA offers race-neutral alternatives that Harvard could use to achieve student body diversity.[170] SFFA argues that Harvard should implement an admissions policy that creates diversity by placing emphasis on socioeconomic factors, including parental education and wealth, which are not specifically tied to race even though they may be strongly correlated.[171] In addition, SFFA proposes that Harvard use financial aid and scholarships for socioeconomically disadvantaged students to incentivize minority enrollment.[172] SFFA suggests that increasing recruitment into the applicant pool for “highly qualified, socioeconomically disadvantaged minorities” would lead to an increase in student body diversity and be sufficient to achieve Harvard’s educational goals.[173] SFFA contends that the need for race-conscious policies would not be necessary if other admissions policies that explicitly disadvantage minority applicants, such as legacy and wealthy donor preferences, were eliminated.[174] SFFA uses testimony from their expert Kahlenberg to support that Harvard can easily achieve diversity by race-neutral policies, such as increasing socioeconomic preferences; increasing financial aid;” and reducing legacy and donor preferences.[175] In response, Harvard asserts that the Smith Committee satisfied strict scrutiny when it determined that there were no available race-neutral alternatives.[176] Lastly, SFFA argues that Harvard has not considered race-neutral alternatives in good faith because the Smith Committee was developed after they became aware of the imminence of a lawsuit.[177]

D.  Criticisms of SFFA’s Arguments

1.  The Arguments in the Complaint Are Flawed

The complaint, as previously discussed, lays out four main arguments: (1) intentional discrimination; (2) racial balancing; (3) not using race as merely a plus factor; and (4) the existence of race-neutral alternatives. First, the argument surrounding the racial quota is flawed because SFFA uses evidence of a quota against Jewish Americans in the 1920s as an indication of a discriminatory intent currently in place against Asian Americans. The existence of a past discriminatory intent in the creation of the policies affecting Jewish applicants in the 1920s does not prevent Harvard from claiming to have benign intentions in the use of its policies now.[178] Since the discriminatory impact is not so severe as to allow a presumption of discriminatory intent as in Yick Wo, in which all permit applications by Chinese owners to set up a laundry business were denied,[179] SFFA would be required to show that constant admission rates of Asian Americans are due to a discriminatory intent to have an upper limit of Asian Americans at Harvard. Because SFFA’s proof is heavily reliant on the court finding its expert’s method of statistical analysis to be more compelling, it will be difficult to show that Arcidiacono’s conclusions are enough to prove discriminatory intent. Even if a racial quota is found to exist, it would only prove that Harvard itself is participating in an impermissible form of discrimination through the use of quotas against Asian Americans; that finding would not invalidate affirmative action in all higher education admissions or prevent the consideration of race in admissions policies elsewhere. SFFA’s use of statistics, such as those from the Espenshade–Radford study,[180] to support the existence of this racial quota falsely manipulates the data to conflate the negative action experienced by Asian Americans with affirmative action. In fact, an upper limit quota on Asian Americans is more likely to benefit white applicants than any minority applicants.[181] While the assertion of an upper limit quota against Asian Americans is highly possible given the constant admission rates of Asian Americans, it would not be due to affirmative action. Rather, it would be due to a combination of efforts to maintain a “white image” at elite universities, enflamed by the use of legacy preferences and the devaluation of Asian American diversity.

Second, SFFA’s argument that Harvard is conducting racial balancing in its admissions policy based on the same stable admission percentages used to indicate the racial quota in the first argument is flawed because diversity itself gains value from balance. Although critical mass is an immeasurable number, its definition inherently requires that it be attached to some ideal balance. While this balance should not solely be based on race, race does play a factor in contributing to the educational benefits of diversity, such that critical mass could definitely not be achieved if an elite university were made up entirely of one race. Any university that limits its number of accepted applicants requires a balance of diversity because not all qualified candidates can be accepted, so to claim there is impermissible racial balancing would be to argue that admissions policies instead need to be attached to something more quantitative like proportionate representation or application rates. The Supreme Court has not found this to be necessary given that Fisher II gave deference to universities in determining whether their admissions policies were narrowly tailored to achieving diversity. Unless there is evidence that Asian Americans are being “lopped” based on the one-pagers and a desire to create a racial demographic that is the same year after year, it will be difficult to show that Harvard is partaking in impermissible racial balancing. However, the balance universities achieve through their admissions policies should be subject to some scrutiny. While a balance may be inherently necessary, the conception of over-representation can lead to an unfair suppression of some groups in the consideration of this balance. The conception of over-representation is an issue because it leads to the idea that there can be too many of a certain group. While this may be true if the goal is to create a diverse class of individuals, it should be questioned when over-representation is only attached to minority groups.[182] Ultimately, there is distrust that SFFA would be welcoming to an outcome that eliminated racial balancing entirely if it meant that Harvard only accepted Asian Americans.[183]

Third, SFFA contends that Harvard does not use race as merely a plus factor because its consideration of race in admissions is not for the purpose of achieving critical mass. While Harvard’s creation of the Smith Committee seems correlated to the filing of the lawsuit, there is no indication that Harvard does not intend to follow its recommendation to re-evaluate in five years, which would be compliant with Fisher II’s mandate to continue reassessing critical mass.[184] Harvard’s admissions policy is to consider race as one factor among many, and almost all of the categories it creates ratings for do not allow the officers to consider race in their scores. While it is misguided for SFFA to challenge the consideration of race in Harvard’s policies as the exist on paper, there should be scrutiny placed on whether admissions officers allow unconscious bias and stereotypes about Asian Americans to influence the ratings of the other categories. When personal ratings of Asian American applicants are consistently lower than white applicants, it should lead to questions about whether admissions officers are more likely to undervalue humor, leadership, courage, and other traits that the personal ratings are based on when they are attached to an Asian American.

Fourth, SFFA suggests that Harvard could achieve diversity through race-neutral alternatives, such as socioeconomic status. Although socioeconomic disadvantage and race may overlap, they do not target identical problems, and thus, the consideration of race should not be completely replaced by solely considering socioeconomic status. They are both to be considered in the admissions process, among a multitude of other diversity factors. The Court in Fisher II allowed universities to use race-conscious admissions where there are no workable race-neutral alternatives that would sufficiently achieve their goals for educational diversity, so Harvard would not be required, under the current law, to adopt an inadequate socioeconomic status-based alternative. Admissions policies based on socioeconomic status may also be offered as a subtle way to assist race and genderbased affirmative action, but they should not be considered as a cure-all in college admissions.[185]

2.  Logical Fallacies

SFFA’s arguments are flawed due to their susceptibility to logical fallacies, such as the “causation fallacy”[186] and the “average-test-score-of-admitted-students”[187] fallacy. The causation fallacy is a term coined by California Supreme Court Justice Goodwin Liu to describe when “the fallacy erroneously conflates the magnitude of affirmative action’s instrumental benefit to minority applicants, which is large, with the magnitude of its instrumental cost to white applicants, which is small.”[188] For unsuccessful applicants, there is a reflex to blame affirmative action, but in a selection process as rigorous as the ones at elite universities, the likelihood of success for any candidate is low, regardless of affirmative action. Because white applicants greatly outnumber minority applicants and a large number of factors are considered, the average white applicant is not significantly more likely to be selected under a race-neutral process than a race-conscious one.[189] Although there are racial gaps in test scores, it is not evidence that affirmative action creates discriminatory acceptance rates, given that non-objective factors also play a role in admissions.[190] The causation fallacy leads to “a distortion of statistical truth, premised on an error in logic. . . . But that fact provides no logical basis to infer that white applicants would stand a much better chance of admission in the absence of affirmative action.”[191] Therefore, any presence of a racial quota or ceiling against Asian American admission cannot be due to affirmative action because the number of spots is too few to account for a constant admission rate despite increased application rates.[192]

The average-test-score-of-admitted-students fallacy is employed by SFFA in its argument that blames affirmative action for statistics showing Asian Americans need to score higher on standardized tests in order to be accepted. Because academic merits are only one factor of many in a holistic admissions process, “it is incorrect to infer Asian American applicants are required to meet a higher test standard even if the group average SAT score of all admitted Asian American students to a given university is higher than the SAT score of all African American admitted students.”[193] This is because SAT scores are not the only basis for admission to universities, and even though the group average SAT score of all admitted Asian American students to a university may be higher than all other groups, their group average non-academic scores may be collectively lower. While this explains why average test scores of Asian Americans may be higher at no fault of affirmative action, it also raises the question of whether Asian Americans’ non-academic qualities are being undervalued as a result of negative action and harmful stereotypes. However, it would be a mistake to want an admissions process that solely relies on academic criteria because scholastic ability, on its own, does not determine beneficial contribution to an elite university, and it has been shown that standardized tests are not racially neutral determinants of merit.[194] Both of these logical fallacies are employed in SFFA’s complaint and are used to appeal to the Asian American community as a way to manipulate blame for discriminatory ceilings against Asian Americans to create support for eliminating affirmative action.

IV.  Asian Americans and Affirmative Action in the Future

A.  Diversity Re-Evaluated

The use of an unnamed Asian American plaintiff and any possible evidence of an upper limit quota against Asian Americans should not bring into question whether diversity is a compelling interest. However, the conception of what this diversity should look like does need to change. There is a fear in the affirmative action discussion that any criticism of current race-conscious policies could be seen as an attack on affirmative action. That should not be the case; while affirmative action creates necessary benefits, it can also be improved.

The conception of diversity needs to evolve past even the idea of intra-racial diversity that was introduced in Fisher II. Diversity needs to be more than just having diversity within racial groups; the discussion needs to shift toward why diverse characteristics become more valuable when attributed to one race over another. When holistic admissions policies allow negative stereotypes about a group to bias their conception of diversity, the true educational benefits of a diverse student body cannot be achieved.

There is a concern that an admissions process that uses racial preferences as a means of enhancing educational diversity may stereotype applicants by race, expressing illegitimate assumptions about applicants’ viewpoints and experiences.[195] For Asian Americans, these stereotypes are harmful and can help explain any potential ceilings. Even when the stereotypes are deemed “positive,” such as the model minority myth, there can be a negative effect.[196] While these “positive” stereotypes may help Asian Americans break into the workforce, these same stereotypes may also prevent them from advancing upward through management.[197] This leads to data that may show “many Asian Americans are ‘underemployed’ relative to their educational background,”[198] creating an assumption within the Asian American community “that a fact of American life is that their efforts and accomplishments are discounted.”[199]

When the stereotypes are negative, there is an even greater impact. Negative stereotypes can lead to “admissions committees [concluding] unfairly that [Asian American] applicants were not well-balanced individuals.”[200] This stereotype that Asian Americans are one-dimensional fails to value the diversity associated with Asian Americans. This creates two main issues. First, while there is value in providing a characteristic that is unusual for your race because you have a unique experience, this does not account for why those same characteristics are valued differently across races, even where they create intraracial diversity[201] equally. For white or other minority applicants, the value of being a concert pianist or a chess player is seen as positive, while for an Asian American, it may be seen as negative because it does not distinguish the Asian American applicant from his or her perceived societal stereotype. While there is a large value to be placed on intraracial diversity and interracial diversity,[202] it is important to question whether there are any equivalent stereotypes that hold back white applicants.[203] Second, there is an additional failure to even recognize the intraracial diversity that already exists among Asian Americans. Asian Americans have diverse cultural backgrounds and experiences that are undervalued when they are viewed as a monolithic group.[204] There would be great intraracial diversity between two Asian American applicants, even if both have the same SAT scores and extracurricular activities, if one was the child of Vietnamese immigrants who came as refugees after the Vietnam War, and the other was the child of secondgeneration Punjabi Americans. To place less value on these distinct cultural experiences than would be placed on the diversity of “a farm boy from Idaho”[205] is illogical. When admissions officers reward candidates who “appear less Asian” or when professional admissions consultants recommend Asian Americans not talk about their immigrant backgrounds to avoid discrimination, it should raise the question of whether there is a devaluation of the Asian American identity in admissions policies.[206]

The diversity of Asian Americans is also devalued through the perception of Asian Americans as over-represented in education. The idea of over-representation itself creates the presumption that Asian Americans are not subjected to discrimination in admissions policies, which is not the case.[207] When schools are identified as being “too Asian,” the diversity of Asian Americans is reduced to an assumption that all Asian Americans are the same and are not valued as individuals who provide a unique benefit to a university. The comments crying “yellow peril” are not said in hushed tones or with backlash of racism, but are viewed as commonplace.[208] The claim of “too Asian” stems out of a fear of universities losing their “white image” due to competition with Asians.[209] With the combination of feeling over-represented while also being asked to “appear less Asian,” the effect has resulted in Asian Americans internalizing these beliefs and a lack of self-identity.[210] For elite universities looking to gain the educational benefits of diversity, creating admissions policies that value the broad range of Asian American experiences is necessary.

B.  Unity with Other Minorities

Asian Americans are traditionally viewed as a “reticent minority because in comparison to other ethnic groups, they tend to be less politically active and vocal.[211] There has been a recent increase in Asian American political activity, particularly in affirmative action,[212] which is necessary and important. However, it is crucial that Asian Americans not fall victim to a “race to the bottom” mentality by attacking other minority groups in a competition of who is worse off.[213] In considering affirmative action, Asian Americans should work with other minorities in discussing with universities “what the institutional and minority needs and priorities are.”[214] When Asian Americans criticize affirmative action, they must first ask themselves (1) even if you are individually innocent of any racial discrimination and face it yourself, do you not benefit from it? and (2) would you trade your Asian American experience to participate in the “piecemeal remedy of affirmative action programs?[215] While the unsuccessful candidate may feel that there are painful costs to affirmative action, Asian Americans should be protesting negative action based on the perpetuation of harmful stereotypes, rather than affirmative action, which continues to benefit Asian Americans. As a racial bourgeoisie, Asian Americans have not been included in affirmative action discussions, and they are caught between societal beliefs that they are receiving preferential treatment and personal feelings of experiencing discrimination.[216]

Conclusion

After Fisher II, diversity is the only justification accepted by the Supreme Court as a compelling interest for universities’ admissions policies to satisfy strict scrutiny, and although the Court claimed to require the university to show no race-neutral alternatives, it ultimately gave deference to the university’s good faith in determining whether the race-neutral alternatives would be plausible in achieving the educational benefits of diversity. The historical discrimination of Asian Americans and their existence as a group too different to be white and not different enough to be a “true minority” give context to why there is frustration and misunderstanding over affirmative action in the Asian American community. Although the negative repercussions of these circumstances and the stereotypes they come with are harmful to Asian Americans, they are not the result of affirmative action and would not be remedied by an elimination of affirmative action. SFFAs complaint and the arguments it made at trial against Harvard rest on misconceptions of the Asian American experience in the admissions processes. In its effort to get rid of race-conscious admissions programs, SFFA falls victim to logical fallacies and fails to address the true problem facing Asian Americans in admissions. While diversity continues to be a compelling interest, the conception of what types of diversity are valued needs to be re-evaluated to consider the stereotypes attributed to Asian Americans. For the Asian American community, their position as a racial bourgeoisie can have a significant impact in the affirmative action discussion if Asian Americans can target their efforts at attacking negative action while simultaneously supporting affirmative action.

 

 


[*] *.. Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 92; J.D. Candidate, 2019, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A., Economics and Legal Studies 2015, University of California, Berkeley. I greatly appreciate Professor Stephen Rich for his guidance and the editors of the Southern California Law Review for their excellent work. Thank you to my family—Mom, Dad, Jen, Andy, and Matt—and to my friends for their endless support and constant willingness to listen to me talk about this Note.

 [1]. Wesley Yang, Paper Tigers: What Happens to All the Asian-American Overachievers When the Test-Taking Ends?, N.Y. Mag. (May 8, 2011), http://nymag.com/news/features/asian-americans-2011-5 (expressing the author’s perspective on the Asian American experience). This puts into context the complexity of the role that Asian Americans play not only in the affirmative action discussion, but also in American society as a whole. When the stereotype that attaches to Asian Americans is that they are all the same, what value can be placed on an individual Asian American’s conception of self?

 [2]. Some of the experiences my maternal grandparents faced in the Japanese American internment camps are also discussed in an article published by USC Gould School of Law. See 75 Years Later: The Impact of Executive Order 9066, USC Gould School of Law (Feb. 16, 2017), https://gould.usc.edu
/about/news/?id=4352.

 [3]. This is not to diminish the experience of those applicants who have to check “Other” because the ethnicity or culture they identify with is not listed, which is a separate but serious issue as well. This is to highlight the feeling of being told that your chances of admission would be greater if the university does not know you are Asian American, indicating Asian Americans get deducted points in comparison to even white applicants. It is not a comforting notion when many applicants of Asian-American descent have first or last names that reveal their identity regardless of what ethnicity they mark on their application.

  The description of my experience applying to colleges is not to insinuate that I should have been accepted to a specific university based upon my qualifications. The qualifications I describe are those of a typical applicant, whereas the suggestion of checking the “Other” box is a less universal experience. It is part of what helps me to understand the frustrations felt by many in the Asian-American community who are pushing back against Harvard’s admissions policies.

 [4]. See infra note 57 and accompanying text.

 [5]. The concept of a “racial bourgeoisie” was coined by Mari Matsuda. Mari J. Matsuda, We Will not be Used: Are Asian Americans the Racial Bourgeoisie?, in Where Is Your Body? And Other Essays on Race, Gender, and the Law 149, 149–50 (1996). It refers to an idea that Asian Americans fall into a racial middle ground that acts as a buffer between whites and African Americans, with Asian Americans stuck being too privileged to be minorities and too foreign to be honorary whites. Id.

 [6]. Matsuda, supra note 5, at 150.

 [7]. Complaint at 100–01, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. Nov. 17, 2014), 2014 WL 6241935. This Note is limited in scope and does not discuss whether the Supreme Court is likely to hear this case or any likely outcome. This Note is limited to critiquing the arguments set out in Students for Fair Admissions’ (“SFFA’s”) complaint that were argued during the trial, which concluded in November 2018, trying to create background on why the Asian American community may be divided on this issue, and making a suggestion for the future of affirmative action as the discussion begins to include Asian Americans. See Chloe Foussianes, A Timeline of the Harvard Affirmative Action Lawsuit, Town & Country (Nov. 2, 2018), https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/money-and-power/a24561452/harvard-lawsuit-affirmative-action-timeline.

 [8]. SFFA is a “newly-formed, nonprofit, membership organization whose members include highly qualified students recently denied admission to [Harvard and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill], highly qualified students who plan to apply to both schools, and parents.” Project on Fair Representation Announces Lawsuits Challenging Admissions Policies at Harvard Univ. and Univ. of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, Students for Fair Admissions, https://studentsforfairadmissions.org
/project-on-fair-representation-announces-lawsuits-challenging-admissions-policies-at-harvard-univ-and-univ-of-north-carolina-chapel-hill (last visited Jan. 21, 2019). The president of Students for Fair Admissions is Edward Blum, who is also the president of the Project on Fair Representation, which was founded in 2005 “to support litigation that challenges racial and ethnic classifications and preferences.” About Us, Project on Fair Representation, https://www.projectonfairrepresentation.org/about (last visited Jan. 21, 2019). The Project on Fair Representation has been involved in admissions lawsuits with other universities, including Fisher v. University of Texas at Austin. Brittany N. Ellis, The Harvard Admissions Lawsuit, Explained, Harv. Crimson (Nov. 7, 2016), http://www.thecrimson.com/article
/2016/11/7/harvard-admissions-lawsuit-explainer.

 [9]. Fisher v. Univ. of Tex. at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198, 2227 n.4 (2016) (Fisher II) (Alito, J., dissenting) (“The majority’s assertion that UT’s race-based policy does not discriminate against Asian-American students . . . defies the laws of mathematics. UT’s program is clearly designed to increase the number of African-American and Hispanic students by giving them an admissions boost vis-à-vis other applicants.”).

 [10]. I acknowledge that the term “Asian American” encompasses many different cultures and experiences, adding to some of the problems of Asian Americans being viewed as a monolithic group. However, the use of terms such as “Asian Americans,” “African Americans,” and “Hispanic Americans” is not intended to describe the experience of all individuals within such “groups,” but as a way to discuss the larger-scale issues surrounding affirmative action within the context of SFFA v. Harvard. The terms “Asian Americans,” “African Americans,” and “Hispanic Americans” were chosen based on how college admissions categorize ethnicity. See Admissions Statistics, Harvard C., https://college.harvard.edu
/admissions/admissions-statistics. The discussion of stereotypes in this Note is used solely to acknowledge their negative impact and not to recognize them as truth, and while stereotypes in any context may be harmful, it may be necessary to discuss them in order to understand our own internal biases. 

 [11]. See Rogers M. Smith, Civic Ideals: Conflicting Visions of Citizenship in U.S. History 212–17 (1999). In order to maintain dominance and power, wealthy white males recognized they would need to expand the civic identity to include poor white males. Id. By creating a dissonance between poor whites and minority groups, wealthy white males were able to maintain their power in the political system. Id.

 [12]. See id. at 197–242 (describing American ascriptivism). Smith offers a theory that the American political system developed with influence from an ascriptive tradition based on racist, sexist, and nativist assumptions that only allowed certain individuals to take part in the American civic identity. Id.

  SFFA’s complaint may be a reaction to the egalitarian civic reforms over the last few decades, showing that democratic principles have failed to create a shared sense of “peoplehood” and instead left people desiring for a return to some “superior culture” of the past. For Asian Americans to become included in those SFFA deem worthy enough to have earned their spots at Harvard, it comes at the cost of perpetuating stereotypes such as the model-minority myth, which are ultimately harmful to the Asian American community. SFFA may be willing to include Asian Americans in higher education, but does this inclusion also apply where it does not benefit the white community?

 [13]. See infra notes 73, 7677 and accompanying text.

 [14]. Throughout this Note, the terms “minority” and “white” were chosen to label groups in the admissions process as opposed to terms like “preferred” and “non-preferred” applicants or any other potential distinction. This is not to say that the admissions experience of all white applicants or all minority applicants is the same.

 [15]. See Matsuda, supra note 5, at 149–50.

 [16]. Adarand Constructors, Inc. v. Pena, 515 U.S. 200, 227 (1995). Strict scrutiny is the most stringent form of judicial review courts use in determining the constitutionality of laws. To pass strict scrutiny, the law must be “narrowly tailored” to achieve a “compelling state interest.” Id. Racial classifications are subject to strict scrutiny, and even where there is non-invidious motive, such as the case for affirmative action, strict scrutiny still applies. See Korematsu v. United States, 323 U.S. 214, 216–24 (1944) (representing the first official use of strict scrutiny for racial classifications, though the Court’s finding that the law was narrowly tailored to a compelling state interest of national security has been criticized for being based on unfounded data provided by the state and was expressly overruled in Trump v. Hawaii, 138 S. Ct. 2392, 2423 (2018)); Adarand, 515 U.S. at 227.

 [17]. Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 311–14 (1978). Justice Douglas’s dissenting opinion in Defunis v. Odegaard, 416 U.S. 312, 321–44 (1974), in which he argued that courts should give deference to educators in admissions policies, set the stage for Justice Powell’s opinion in Bakke. See Bakke, 438 U.S. at 311–14. The extent to which diversity would be able to apply as a compelling government interest to other areas outside of public education is uncertain. Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 329 (2003) (“We have long recognized that, given the important purpose of public education and the expansive freedoms of speech and thought associated with the university environment, universities occupy a special niche in our constitutional tradition.”).

 [18]. Bakke, 438 U.S. at 323.

A farm boy from Idaho can bring something to Harvard College that a Bostonian cannot offer. Similarly, a black student can usually bring something that a white person cannot offer. The quality of the educational experience of all the students in Harvard College depends in part on these differences in the background and outlook that students bring with them.

Id.

 [19]. Id. at 310, 315–17. A quota system using proportional representation to remedy a historical deficit was considered unconstitutional because racial balancing is unequal on its face. Acting as a counter-effect to societal discrimination is a valid reason, but it is not narrowly tailored enough to justify the unfairness to an “innocent” applicant. Id. at 308–09. 

 [20]. Id. at 316–18. “As the Harvard plan described by Justice Powell recognized, there is of course ‘some relationship between numbers and achieving the benefits to be derived from a diverse student body, and between numbers and providing a reasonable environment for those students admitted.’” Grutter, 539 U.S. at 336 (citing Bakke, 438 U.S. at 323).

 [21]. Grutter, 539 U.S. at 325. (“[W]e endorse Justice Powell’s view that student body diversity is a compelling state interest that can justify the use of race in university admissions.”).

 [22]. Id. at 328. Educational benefits of diversity include cross-racial understanding helping to break down racial stereotypes, livelier classroom discussion, better preparation for a diverse workforce and marketplace, and the creation of a military officer corps better suited to properly provide national security. Id. at 330–33. In Grutter, much of the support for the University of Michigan Law School’s compelling interest claim was “bolstered by its amici, who point to the educational benefits that flow from student body diversity.” Id. at 330.

  The Court cites to Plyler v. Doe, 457 U.S. 202, 221 (1982) and Brown v. Board of Education, 347 U.S. 483, 493 (1954) in acknowledging the Court’s emphasis on education as fundamental in “sustaining our political and cultural heritage” as well as the “foundation of good citizenship.” Grutter, 539 U.S. at 331. However, the Court fails to address the anti-subordination values of Plyler and Brown and simply focuses on the instrumental values of allowing an educational institution to create a policy that promotes a goal of diversity.

 [23]. Grutter, 539 U.S. at 330–33.

 [24]. Id. at 340.

 [25]. Id. at 318.

 [26]. Id. at 328.

The Law School’s educational judgment that such diversity is essential to its educational mission is one to which we defer. . . . Our scrutiny of the interest asserted by the Law School is no less strict for taking into account complex educational judgments in an area that lies primarily within the expertise of the university. Our holding today is in keeping with our tradition of giving a degree of deference to a university’s academic decisions, within constitutionally prescribed limits.

Id.

  This deference only applies to the question of whether the specific institution finds diversity to be part of its own interest, not whether diversity itself is a compelling interest. This deference also does not apply to whether the means chosen to obtain the diversity are narrowly tailored.

 [27]. Id. at 337–38.

 [28]. Id. at 339 (“Narrow tailoring does not require exhaustion of every conceivable race-neutral alternative. Nor does it require a university to choose between maintaining a reputation for excellence or fulfilling a commitment to provide educational opportunities to members of all racial groups.”).

 [29]. Id. The Supreme Court reasoned that the district court’s criticism of the law school for failing to consider race-neutral alternatives such as “using a lottery system” or de-emphasizing the importance of GPA and LSAT scores for all applicants was unfounded because “these alternatives would require a dramatic sacrifice of diversity, the academic quality of all admitted students, or both.” Id. at 339–40.

 [30]. Fisher v. Univ. of Tex. at Austin, 570 U.S. 297 (2013) (Fisher I); Fisher v. University of Tex. at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (Fisher II). In Fisher I, after being denied admission to the University of Texas at Austin, Abigail Fisher challenged the university’s admissions policy. Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 306–07. She did not qualify for the university’s Top Ten Percent Plan, which guaranteed admission to the top 10 percent of every in-state, high school graduating class. Id. at 304–05. For the remaining spots, the university’s admissions policy considered several factors, with race being one of them. Id. Fisher I centered around Abigail Fisher’s challenge of University of Texas’s use of race-conscious admissions as a violation of the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Id. The Supreme Court in Fisher I held that the appellate court erred by not properly applying the strict scrutiny standard because narrow tailoring requires a showing that no race-neutral alternative was available and remanded the matter. Id. at 311–15. Fisher II then determined the constitutionality of the admissions policy based on the findings from the university on what race-neutral alternatives were plausible. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2198. 

 [31]. Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 312 (“Although ‘[n]arrow tailoring does not require exhaustion of every conceivable race-neutral alternative,’ strict scrutiny does require a court to examine with care, and not defer to, a university’s ‘serious, good faith consideration of workable race-neutral alternatives.’” (citing Grutter, 539 U.S. at 339–40)).

 [32]. Id. (“The reviewing court must ultimately be satisfied that no workable race-neutral alternatives would produce the educational benefits of diversity.”).

 [33]. Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 314–15 (“[A] university must make a showing that its plan is narrowly tailored to achieve the only interest that this Court has approved in this context: the benefits of a student body diversity . . . . and the case is remanded for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.”); Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2208 (“Fisher I set forth these controlling principles, while taking no position on the constitutionality of the admissions program at issue in this case.”).

 [34]. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2211–12 (“[A] university bears a heavy burden in showing that it had not obtained the educational benefits of diversity before it turned to a race-conscious plan.”). As discussed in supra note 30, the University of Texas’s Top Ten Percent Plan (the “Plan”) guaranteed admission to the top 10 percent of every in-state, high school graduating class. Id. at 2205–06. The Plan was introduced by the University of Texas at Austin as a way to improve intra-racial diversity by increasing the amount of diversity within racial groups. Id. The Plan hoped to achieve this by accepting the top 10 percent from every Texas high school given the understanding that the racial and socioeconomic makeup of each school district may not already be diverse. Id.

 [35]. See Grutter, 539 U.S. at 318–20 (“[T]here is no number, percentage, or range of numbers or percentages that constitute critical mass. . . . [C]ritical mass means numbers such that underrepresented minority students do not feel isolated or like spokespersons for their race.” (citations omitted)).

  This is problematic because the “university’s goals cannot be elusory or amorphous—they must be sufficiently measurable to permit judicial scrutiny of the policies adopted to reach them,” while the conception of “critical mass” requires there be no quantitative measure in order to prevent it from appearing like a quota. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2211. This creates an issue for how to determine when “critical mass” for the purpose of achieving a diversity goal has been achieved.

 [36]. Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2212 (“Though a college must continually reassess its need for race-conscious review, here that assessment appears to have been done with care, and a reasonable determination was made that the University had not yet attained its goals.”).

 [37]. Compare Fisher I, 570 U.S. at 312–15, with Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2210–12.

 [38]. The conception of diversity established in Grutter has shifted slightly because Fisher II introduced the incorporation of intra-racial diversity, noting that “critical mass” may require something besides just a critical mass of each race, specifically, experiences within each race may be considered as well. See Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. at 2110–11. However, the test for diversity has remained the same as it was in Grutter, with specific emphasis on the Court’s continued efforts to give deference to the university’s good faith. Id. at 2211–14.

 [39]. Grutter, 539 U.S. at 325.

 [40]. Id. at 330–32; Stephen M. Rich, What Diversity Contributes To Equal Opportunity, 89 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1011, 1034–36 (2016) (“[I]t begs the question why the Court insisted on drawing such close connections between education and the value of diversity, and does not establish that diversity generally is sufficiently important to sustain the use of racial preferences when the success of a university’s educational mission is not at stake.”).

 [41]. Rich, supra note 40, at 1031–33 (“A more robust verification requirement, however, would have risked undermining the value of academic freedom that has provided the foundation for the Court’s diversity rationale.”); see also Grutter, 539 U.S. at 318–20.

 [42]. See Rich, supra note 40, at 1031–46. The goal of diversity may go beyond just a “critical mass” of racially and ethnically diverse individuals toward a goal of creating equal opportunity through the understanding of historical discrimination. If the true goal is to break down racial stereotypes, simply achieving “critical mass” of racial numbers in an attempt to integrate may not be enough. It may require going beyond the racial make-up of an applicant pool toward including diverse faculty, learning methods, and mentorship in order to truly achieve the educational benefits of diversity. Id. The concept of “critical mass” is unstable because the goals of diversity beyond integration may require a decrease in the quantity associated with critical mass. However, it is also argued that Grutter’s formulation of diversity may do more than just promote integration because it embodies anti-subordination values that look to the future in attempting to ensure there is no creation of a second-class status. Id.

 [43]. Id. at 1035–37 (“The current doctrine’s failure to distinguish between exploitative and egalitarian uses of diversity . . . is a direct consequence of this shift; the doctrine now focuses on whether a university’s pursuit of diversity advances the university’s educational mission, not on whether a university’s enrollments reflect an effort to provide equal opportunity.”). The exploitative use of diversity is to simultaneously profit from the educational benefits diversity can provide to a university and buy into the instrumental justification that diversity is only a compelling interest based on what it can contribute to the mission of a university. See id. at 1031–37. The egalitarian use of diversity is to pursue the belief that people deserve equal opportunities. Id. The current doctrine of diversity does not distinguish between these two objectives and places a larger focus on the instrumental value of how a university’s mission can be served by diversity. Id. at 1035–37. This creates an equal opportunity problem because unless diversity is viewed with an understanding of the unique challenges minorities face in education, minorities will not have a fair shot at the admitted student spots. Without equal opportunity to admission at elite universities, each admission spot becomes non-fungible and broken down into spots reserved for whites, African Americans, Asians, etc.

 [44]. See Lauren Camera, A Community Divided: Asian-Americans Are Divided Over an Affirmative Action Case that Argues Harvard Discriminates Against Them, U.S. News & World Rep. (Oct. 12, 2018, 6:00 AM), https://www.usnews.com/news/the-report/articles/2018-10-12/affirmative-action-case-drives-wedge-in-asian-american-community.

 [45]. If the objective is equal outcomes, this may lead to a solely integration-based conception of affirmative action where comparably “equal outcomes” rely on proportionate representation. If this is the case, there may be “equal outcomes” for a racial group, such that the group is represented by a “meaningful number” of individuals, but this fails to take into consideration histories of discrimination and the impact this historical oppression may have on the ability for individuals within groups to achieve “success.” If the objective is equal opportunity, then similarly situated minority groups should receive the same treatment. In order to understand what would create equal opportunities, an anti-subordination principle that takes into account remedial justifications for affirmative action may be necessary. However, this anti-subordination principle may fail to bring about true equal opportunity if the historical discrimination of some groups is not acknowledged or is undervalued. See Reva B. Siegel, Equality Talk: Antisubordination and Anticlassification Values in Constitutional Struggles Over Brown, 117 Harv. L. Rev. 1470, 1472–73, 1532–33 (2004).

  The recognition of a group’s history of discrimination should by no means be used to invalidate or undermine the patterns of oppression that plague other groups. Specifically, it should not be used to claim that Asian Americans have suffered equal oppression as other groups, particularly African Americans, when it is widely understood that Asian Americans do not face the same systematic racism and obstacles faced by African Americans.

 [46]. The ideal would be for affirmative action to be a discussion that includes minority voices to determine what diversity should look like in an admissions process, rather than an all-or-nothing debate. Giving voice to Asian Americans, who have largely been left out of the white–black discussion until recently, is necessary in order to create any solution that would further the goals affirmative action is based upon.

 [47]. Matsuda, supra note 5, at 153–54.

When university administrators have hidden quotas to keep down Asian admissions, this is because Asians are seen as destroying the predominantly white character of the university. Under this mentality, we cannot let in all those Asian over-achievers and maintain affirmative action for other minority groups. We cannot do both because that will mean either that our universities lose their predominantly white character or that we have to fund more and better universities. To either of those prospects, I say, why not? and I condemn the voices from my own community that are translating legitimate anger at ceilings on Asian admissions into unthinking opposition to affirmative-action floors needed to fight racism.

Id.

 [48]. Id. at 149–50.

 [49]. See Pat K. Chew, Asian Americans: The “Reticent” Minority and Their Paradoxes, 36 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 1, 4 (1994).

Asian Americans are a “reticent” minority group. Compared to the other major ethnic groups in this country, for instance, Asian Americans are less politically organized and vocal. Their reticence, combined with other cultural factors, has made it difficult for all Americans—whites, Asian Americans and other minority groups—to understand who Asian Americans are.

Id. at 4–5 (footnotes omitted).

 [50]. Shaun R. Harper, Lori D. Patton & Ontario S. Wooden, Access and Equity for African American Students in Higher Education: A Critical Race Historical Analysis of Policy Efforts, 80 J. Higher Educ. 389, 397 (2009).

 [51]. Dana Takagi, The Retreat from Race: Asian-American Admissions and Racial Politics 21–22 (1992). From 1976 to 1982, enrollment increased nationwide by 1.3% for African Americans, 5% for whites, 32% for Hispanic Americans, and 62% for Asian Americans. Id. at 21.

 [52]. Id. at 77–78.

 [53]. For detailed discussion of the Harvard Plan, see supra note 20 and accompanying text.

 [54]. Id. at 51. Asian Americans began challenging admissions policies at elite universities nationwide, including Brown, Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, and UC Berkeley, but have yet to see any concrete judicial success. Id. at 23–51.

 [55]. E.g., Brief for Asian Am. Legal Def. & Educ. Fund et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Respondents, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14-981); Brief for Asian Ams. Advancing Justice et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Respondents, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14-981); Brief for 39 Undergraduate and Graduate Student Orgs. within the Univ. of Cal. as Amici Curiae Supporting Respondents, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14-981).

 [56]. Brief for the Asian Am. Legal Found. & the Asian Am. Coal. for Educ. et al. as Amici Curiae Supporting Petitioner at 23–28, Fisher II, 136 S. Ct. 2198 (2016) (No. 14–981) (discussing studies and anecdotal evidence to support the claim that Asian Americans are frequently discriminated against in the application of the SAT test score standard though none of these reported included references or data to University of Texas at Austin).  

 [57]. The model minority myth underscores institutional racism because it pins Asian Americans as successful in comparison to other minorities. It perpetuates an assumption that all minorities face the same experiences and barriers to success when it is clear that they do not. While some Asian Americans may have found success in America, it is in no way due to some inherent “Asian quality” that makes them more likely to succeed. To compare Asian Americans against other minorities is to discount the very real, lingering effects of slavery, Jim Crow laws, and mass incarceration that do not create obstacles for Asian Americans the same way they do for African Americans. Asian American successes are de-emphasized when those successes are attributed to simply being Asian and not from the individual’s hard work and sacrifice. When the stereotype is that Asian Americans cannot fail because of something inherent in “being Asian,” their successes appear less impressive. When one hears that the valedictorian of a high school is Asian American, and the response is “of course” as opposed to hearing that the valedictorian is white, then that Asian American valedictorian is harmed by some perception of the model minority myth. For further discussion of the model minority myth, see Kat Chow, ‘Model Minority’ Myth Again Used as a Racial Wedge Between Asians and Blacks, NPR: Code Switch (April 19, 2017, 8:32 AM), https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2017/04/19/524571669/model-minority-myth-again-used-as-a-racial-wedge-between-asians-and-blacks.

 [58]. Asian Americans were the first group of immigrants to be explicitly excluded from the United States, with the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Yuning Wu, Chinese Exclusion Act, Encyclopedia Britannica (Nov. 13. 2013), https://www.britannica.com/topic/Chinese-Exclusion-Act. Then, Japanese immigration was specifically restricted in the Gentleman’s Agreement in 1907, and the 1924 Immigration Act barred immigrants from several other Asian countries. Univ. of Del., Comparison of Asian Populations During the Exclusion Years & Summary of Key Laws Regarding the Immigration and Citizenship of Asians in the United States (2006), http://www1.udel.edu/readhistory/resources/2005_2006/summer_06/hsu.pdf [hereinafter Summary of Key Laws].

 [59]. See generally United States v. Thind, 261 U.S. 204 (1923) (holding Asian Indians were not eligible to apply for U.S. citizenship); Ozawa v. United States, 260 U.S. 178 (1922) (holding Japanese were not eligible to apply for U.S. citizenship).

 [60]. Summary of Key Laws, supra note 58.

 [61]. United States v. Wong Kim Ark, 169 U.S. 649, 705 (1898).

 [62]. Regan v. King, 49 F. Supp. 222 (N.D. Cal. 1942) (plaintiff argued for United States v. Wong Kim Ark to be overruled and the removal of all individuals of Japanese ancestry born in the United States from voter rolls).

 [63]. The Supreme Court did not strike down anti-miscegenation laws, which applied to Asian Americans, as unconstitutional until Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1, 12 (1967). The “separate but equal” doctrine’s application to Asian Americans was sanctioned by the Supreme Court in Gong Lum v. Rice, 275 U.S. 78, 87 (1927) (allowing Mississippi to prevent a Chinese student from enrolling at an all-white school).

 [64]. Brian Niiya, The Last Alien Land Law, Densho Blog (Feb. 7, 2018), https://densho.org/last-alien-land-law. The large-scale economic disenfranchisement of Asian Americans was fueled by an increased threat of Asian competition in farming. Amy K. Buck, Alien Land Laws: The Curtailing of Japanese Agricultural Pursuits in Oregon 1–4 (1999) (unpublished M.A. thesis, Portland State University), https://pdxscholar.library.pdx.edu/open_access_etds/3988. These Alien Land Laws exacerbated the negative effects of the Japanese internment because many of the Japanese Americans were unable to own their land, so their land was taken from them by the time they returned from the internment camps. Id.

 [65]. Yick Wo v. Hopkins, 118 U.S. 356, 373–74 (1886) (facially race-neutral law applied in racially prejudicial manner violated Fourteenth Amendment). The San Francisco ordinance made it illegal to operate a laundry in a wooden building without a permit, but the Board of Supervisors had discretion in determining to whom to grant permit. Id. at 357–59. Of the 320 laundries at the time, about 95% of them were operated in wooden buildings, and approximately two-thirds of those laundries were owned by Chinese people. See id. at 358–59. The Board of Supervisors denied all two hundred applications that were submitted by Chinese owners. Id. at 359. At the same time, virtually all of the non-Chinese applicants were granted a permit with the exception of one applicant. Id.

 [66]. The Supreme Court upheld Executive Order 9066 in Korematsu v. United States, 323 U.S. 214, 223–24 (1944), which authorized the internment of more than 120,000 people of Japanese descent, two-thirds of which were U.S. citizens. Executive Order 9066 was signed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt on February 19, 1942. Id. at 226–27. Japanese Americans were given between 48 hours to one week to pack one bag and report to an assembly center. Exploration: Japanese-American Internment, Digital History, http://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/active_learning/explorations/japanese_internment
/internment_menu.cfm (last visited Jan. 3, 2019). From there, they were sent to internment camps that were “surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards.” Id. The Japanese Americans were detained in these camps for three to four years and given a mere $25 upon their release. Ron Grossman, Flashback: When Japanese-Americans Were Sent to Internment Camps, Chi. Trib. (Feb. 9, 2017), https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/commentary/ct-japanese-internment-camps-war-trump-roosevelt-flashback-perspec-0212-jm-20170208-story.html. There were zero reported incidents of traitorous activity by Japanese Americans during this time, despite the government using this to support their “military necessity” justification. Bill Ong Hing, Lessons to Remember from Japanese Internment, Huffington Post (Apr. 22, 2012), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/bill-ong-hing/lessons-to-remember-from-_b_1285303.html. The compelling government interest of “military necessity” was later found to be based on unsubstantiated facts after a group of young Asian American attorneys filed a writ of coram nobis. Dale Minami: A Chance of a Lifetime, Fred T. Korematsu Inst. (Jan. 6, 2009), http://www.korematsuinstitute.org/news/dale-minami-a-chance-of-a-lifetime. Over forty years later, reparations of $20,000 and a formal apology were awarded to survivors, though most of those who had been interned were deceased by this time. Id. The Japanese internment is important because it reveals a lot about the nature and dangers of anti-Asian prejudice creating a stereotype of Asians as a “perpetual foreigner.” It begs the question of whether the mass imprisonment of U.S. citizens would have been executed against other groups who are not stigmatized by the concept of “foreignness.” Roger Daniels, Concentration Camps: North America—Japanese in the United States and Canada During World War II, at xvi (Robert E. Krieger Publ’g Co. 1981) (1971) (“[T]he legal atrocity which was committed against the Japanese Americans was the logical outgrowth of over three centuries of American experience, an experience which taught Americans to regard the United States as a white man’s country.”). 

 [67]. For this hate crime, the two men received three years of probation and a fine of $3,780 each, which sparked a movement toward political awareness and advocacy for the Asian American community. Lynette Clemetson, A Slaying in 1982 Maintains Its Grip on Asian-Americans, N.Y. Times (June 18, 2002), https://nyti.ms/2lqriDq.

 [68]. Acquittal in Doorstep Killing of Japanese Student, N.Y. Times (May 24, 1993), https://nyti.ms/2GK2ZuK. Hattori was attempting to attend a party with a fellow student, but they knocked on the wrong door. Hattori v, Peairs, 662 So. 2d 509, 511–13 (La. 1995). The owner of that property shot Hattori, but claimed it was in self-defense because he was reasonable to view Hattori as a threat. Id.

 [69]. See Chew, supra note 49, at 59 n.263 (“What if Hattori was black? One wonders if American society is more likely to attend to black/white confrontations than to confrontations between other groups.”). Had Hattori been white, would the jury be more likely to find this story unreasonable? Id. at 59. Does it make the fear the owner felt more reasonable because Hattori was Japanese? If Hattori was black, would the jury be more likely to be receptive to claims that it was the owner’s racism that made him fear Hattori and not a reasonable fear? We cannot be fooled into thinking that “reasonableness” is an objective standard when it is clearly influenced by what that jury views as reasonable, all of which is permeable to racism and negative stereotypes. Id.

 [70]. See U.S Comm’n on Civil Rights, Civil Rights Issues Facing Asian Americans in the 1990s 46 (1992).

 [71]. This is not to say that Asian Americans face the largest number or most violent hate crimes. It is attempting to bring attention to current manifestations of prejudice against Asian Americans that often go unreported or unacknowledged. Jenny J. Chen, First-Ever Tracker of Hate Crimes Against Asian-Americans Launched, NPR (Feb. 17, 2017), https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2017/02/17
/515824196/first-ever-tracker-of-hate-crimes-against-asian-americans-launched.

 [72]. Chen, supra note 71; Anti-Asian Hate Crimes in Los Angeles Surge After Trump Deems China an Enemy, Asian Am. Advancing Just. (Jan. 30, 2017), https://advancingjustice-aajc.org/news/anti-asian-hate-crimes-los-angeles-surge-after-trump-deems-china-enemy; Kamal S. Kalsi, Xenophobia Towards Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders Persists Under Trump Administration, Huffington Post (June 2, 2017), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/xenophobia-towards-asian-americans-and-pacific-islanders-persists-under-the-trump-administration_us_592f1075e4b09ec37c313e66.

 [73]. Asian Americans are perceived as “perpetual foreigners.” This stems from Asian Americans arriving in America as immigrants, much like other ethnic groups. However—unlike European immigrants and, to some extent, Hispanic American immigrants—Asian Americans’ facial characteristics cannot provide them any possibility of being “white-passing.” In addition, Asian culture is often seen as exotic and not assimilable to American culture.

                My mother’s family has lived in the United States for three generations; her own parents barely spoke Japanese and had never been to Japan. Yet I continue to get asked “why is your English so good?” or “where are you really from?” as though I am not equally as American as a fourth-generation immigrant from a European country. How often are those questions asked of a white person or even an African American person? 

  I recognize that many of these issues are not unique to Asian Americans. For example, Middle Eastern Americans and, to some extent, Hispanic Americans also do not have the benefit of being “white-passing” or being viewed as part of American culture.

  The caveat of being “foreign” means Asian Americans are accepted into American society so long as they don’t pose a threat. The minute the country of their ancestors does something “against America,” they are no longer American, they are Japanese or Chinese, or in the current climate, Muslim.

 [74]. Matsuda, supra note 5, at 150. Asian Americans act as a “racial bourgeoisie” because they are never going to be “white enough” to be white, but other people of color view them as too privileged to truly be considered minorities. This means that Asian Americans are neither accepted by whites nor people of color. See Emily S. Zia, Note, What Side Are We On? A Call to Arms to the Asian American Community, 23 Asian Am. L.J. 169, 169–75 (discussing her experience as an Asian American trying to participate in a “die-in” as part of a “Boalt With Ferguson” protest at UC Berkeley School of Law) (“All of these events made me feel like the other students of color did not view Asian Americans as allies, let alone people of color. . . . [W]hy did my fellow students of color view us as closer to White than to Black?”). Although her point about being viewed as closer to white than African American is valid, it is important to make clear that it is not Asian Americans’ place to intrude on an experience that does not affect them the same way it does African Americans. The goal is not to tell African Americans how to lead a Ferguson protest, but there should be room to include those who are willing to be active listeners. The danger of being in a racial middle ground is that Asian Americans are often excluded from the discussion, but it also means Asian Americans have a powerful position to effect change.

 [75]. Frank H. Wu, Yellow: Race in American Beyond Black and White 58 (2002) (“DePaul University law professor Sumi Cho has explained that Asian Americans are turned into ‘racial mascots’ giving right-wing causes a novel messenger, camouflaging arguments that would look unconscionably self-interested if made by whites about themselves.”); William C. Kidder, Negative Action Versus Affirmative Action: Asian Pacific Americans Are Still Caught in the Crossfire, 11 Mich. J. Race & L. 605, 621 (2006); Chew, supra note 49, at 66.

 [76]. See generally Claire Jean Kim, The Racial Triangulation of Asian Americans, 27 Pol. & Soc’y 105 (1999) (explaining racial triangulation). Racial triangulation is the concept of having “foreignness” and “superiority” on x-y axes. Id. at 107–08. Whites and African Americans are on opposite ends of the “superiority” y-axis spectrum but at the lowest end of the x-axis “foreignness,” while Asian Americans are on the peak of “foreignness” and lie in the middle on the “superiority” axis. Id. This creates a triangle that place Asian Americans in a racial bourgeoisie between whites and African Americans that no amount of success (attributable to the model minority myth) can overcome due to the conception of foreignness. Id. The use of this racial triangulation may be used to benefit conservative groups looking to preserve a “white image” and create a pitting of racial minorities against each other in order to maintain political dominance. Id. at 122–23.

This payoff is so rich that conservatives have actually manufactured conflicts between Blacks and Asian Americans in order to achieve it. . . . [In the 1980s, conservative affirmative action opponents] shifted public debate from the real issue at hand—whether or not several leading universities imposed racial quotas on Asian American students to preserve the whiteness of their student bodies—to the false issue of whether affirmative action programs designed to benefit Blacks and Latinos unfairly discriminated against Asian Americans.

Id.

 [77]. The concept of Asian Americans as perpetual foreigners has occurred throughout history and continues to exist in American culture. Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537, 561 (1896) (Harlan, J., dissenting) (“There is a race so different from our own that we do not permit those belonging to it to become citizens of the United States. Persons belonging to it are, with few exceptions, absolutely excluded from our country. I allude to the Chinese race.”); Schutte v. Coal. to Defend Affirmative Action, 572 U.S. 291, 381 (2014) (Sotomayor, J., dissenting).

Race matters to a young woman’s sense of self when she states her hometown, and then is pressed, “No, where are you really from?”, regardless of how many generations her family has been in the country. Race matters to a young person addressed by a stranger in a foreign language, which he does not understand because only English was spoken at home. Race matters because of the slights, the snickers, the silent judgments that reinforce that most crippling of thoughts: “I do not belong here.”

Schutte, 572 U.S. at 381.

 [78]. This was seen during World War II, where Italian and German Americans were not conflated with their ancestor country to the same extent as Japanese Americans, who were placed in internment camps. Asian Americans are easy targets for this type of discrimination because they are seen as different and inherently un-American. It brings into question whether this is something that Muslim Americans and Middle Eastern Americans face in twenty-first century America.

 [79]. It is intentional that the term is “model minority” and not “model American.” See Chew, supra note 49, at 32–35.

 [80]. Gabriel J. Chin et al., Beyond Self-Interest: Asian Pacific Americans Toward a Community of Justice, a Policy Analysis of Affirmative Action, 4 UCLA Asian Pac. Am. L.J. 129, 149 (1996) (“[Asian Americans] generally have more individuals contributing to household income than the national average . . . .”). Asian Americans also tend to live in geographic areas that tend to have higher costs of living and above-average incomes for all residents, indicating that Asian Americans are no more successful than any other race. Id. Immigration laws historically favored highly-educated Asian professionals, which greatly influenced the Asian immigrant demographics, which could affect the average income levels and perceived socioeconomic mobility of Asian Americans. Id. at 150.

 [81]. See supra notes 6768.

 [82]. See Chin et al., supra note 80, at 154 (discussing how Asian Americans are “under-parity” in numerous fields and would not have their current representation in those areas without the aid of affirmative action policies).

 [83]. Kimberly West-Faulcon, Obscuring Asian Penalty with Illusions of Black Bonus, 64 UCLA L. Rev. Disc. 590, 629 n.153 (2017).

My point is that accusing Harvard of racial balancing is a promising means of convincing the federal court to strike down the institution’s racial affirmative action policy but, if Harvard admissions officials have an either conscious or unconscious enrollment limit they are inclined to impose on Asian American enrollment to preserve Harvard’s predominantly white character, eliminating racial affirmative action will neither expose or rectify that type of anti-Asian bias in admissions.

Id.; Jerry Kang, Negative Action Against Asian Americans: The Internal Instability of Dworkin’s Defense of Affirmative Action, 31 Harv. C.R.-C.L. L. Rev. 1, 14–18 (discussing that negative action rather than affirmative action is the main source of any limits in admissions for Asian Americans).

 [84]. Jaweed Kaleem, Asian Americans Are Divided After the Trump Administration’s Move on Affirmative Action, L.A. Times (Aug. 3, 2017), http://www.latimes.com/nation/la-na-asian-americans-affirmative-action-20170803-story.html (“Affirmative action opponents often cite a 2009 study that found Asian Americans had to score 140 points higher on SAT exams in order to be on equal footing with whites in private university admissions—a difference they sometimes call the ‘Asian tax.’”) (“But the test score phenomenon exists regardless of whether the university considers race in its admission. So there is something else happening.”) (quoting Asian Americans Advancing Justice Attorney Nicole Gon Ochi).

 [85]. Id.

This is primarily about conservative leaders protecting the privilege of access to society’s resources and opportunities for certain white constituents . . . . Such leaders’ purported concern for discrimination against Asian Americans is politically opportunistic. . . . I don’t see many of them concerned about discrimination against Asian Americans in other contexts . . . such as the “bamboo ceiling” in corporate America, where such discrimination does not harm white interests.

Id. (quoting Professor Kim Forde-Mazrui, University of Virginia School of Law).

 [86]. Carolyn Chen, Opinion, Asians: Too Smart for Their Own Good?, N.Y. Times (Dec. 19, 2012), https://nyti.ms/2jKMeQF (“For middle-class and affluent whites, overachieving Asian-Americans pose thorny questions about privilege and power, merit and opportunity. Some white parents have reportedly shied away from selective public schools that have become ‘too Asian,’ fearing that their children will be outmatched.”). For the Harvard class of 2022, the numbers are approximately 23% Asian and 47% white. Harvard Admitted Students Profile, Harv. C.: Admissions & Fin. Aid, https://college.harvard.edu
/admissions/admissions-statistics (last visited Jan. 21, 2019).

 [87]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 1. The action is being brought under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 because Harvard College is a private university and would not be subject to constitutional challenges under the Equal Protection Clause. However, because Harvard College accepts federal funding, it is subject to the statutory obligations under Title VI. Education and Title VI, U.S. Dep’t of Educ., https://www2.ed.gov/about/offices/list/ocr/docs/hq43e4.html (last updated Sept. 25, 2018); see also Complaint, supra note 7, at 94.

 [88]. Alexander v. Sandoval, 532 U.S. 275 (2001) (deciding that Title VI regulations did not include a private right of action based on evidence of disparate impact).

  It seems the Court will likely allow a private right of action under Title VI. See generally Lau v. Nichols, 414 U.S. 563 (involving the Court allowing a private right of action under Title VI to non-English speaking Chinese students seeking relief against the San Francisco School District, but the existence of a private right of action was never disputed in this case); Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265 (1978) (involving four justices assuming, without deciding, that a private right of action was available under Title VI, one justice denying a private right of action could be implied, and the remaining four justices concluding that the private action was available).

 [89]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 3–5, 100–01. 

 [90]. Id. at 8. When the complaint was filed, the unnamed applicant was the only Standing Member (other than his father). Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *37 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018). SFFA has since added additional members to the suit, including several that it identified as “Standing Members,” several of whom were Asian American applicants rejected from Harvard. Id. These members filed affidavits and testified in court stating they would be able and ready to transfer if Harvard ceases using race-conscious admissions. Id. at *39–41. Harvard alleged that the Standing Members ability to challenge has become moot because they are now ineligible to transfer or no serious intention to. However, based on the testimony of two Standing Members still eligible for transfer, the court found there was enough to support SFFA’s associational standing. Id. at *41. 

 [91]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 8. It is of note that the plaintiff is unnamed, and the suit is being brought on behalf of an organization that is claiming to represent the interests of its members, including the unnamed plaintiff. Whether the Supreme Court will determine SFFA has standing to bring the suit is uncertain since equal protection is generally to provide individual relief and all other affirmative action cases have been brought by named individuals rather than a curated “litigation vehicle.” Defendant’s Motion for Summary Judgment at 1, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018), ECF No. 417. According to Adarand Constructors, Inc. v. Pena, 515 U.S. 200, 224 (1995), the right to equal opportunity is a personal right, so what matters is the treatment of the individual plaintiff not the average Asian American plaintiff. However, the district court denied Harvard’s motion for summary judgment based on lack of standing. See SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *41. There is skepticism that using one unnamed Asian American plaintiff shows Asian Americans are being manipulated in an effort to eliminate affirmative action on behalf of a non-Asian American membership. While this may have merit, it is also important that the concerns voiced by Asian Americans not be dismissed by supporters of affirmative action simply because they are being wielded by a group like SFFA.

 [92]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 8.

 [93]. SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *16–23 (describing the undisputed facts regarding the Harvard admissions process).

 [94]. Id. at *18–21.

 [95]. Id. at *20. The assessment of an applicant’s personal rating is subject to racial bias if unconscious stereotypes are able to affect an officer’s view of whether a candidate possesses these traits.

 [96]. Id. at *20–21. By not having a specific formula, there is a possibility that some categories may be given more weight than others. While it may be useful to allow a university to have discretion to view every candidate holistically, there may be reason for skepticism if there is a large disparity between the overall ratings given to Asian Americans and what the summed total of their other ratings would have been. If Asian Americans were to score higher than white applicants in the other categories, including extracurricular, personal, and interview ratings, but still receive lower overall ratings, it may be an indication that Asian Americans’ race negatively affects how they are viewed overall.

 [97]. Id. at *22–23.

 [98]. Id. at *28–31. Is the reason for Asian American admission decreasing with the consideration of non-academic variables truly due to Asian Americans only being good at academics or is it because their other traits and activities are undervalued in comparison to other racial groups?

 [99]. Id. at *30. If the only difference accounting for the higher admittance rates of non-legacy, non-athlete white applicants is the personal rating, it begs the question of whether white applicants receive a biased preference over Asian American applicants based on amorphous personal traits that may be subject to cultural differences.

 [100]. Id. at *30–31.

 [101]. Id. at *26.

 [102]. Id. at *26–27.

 [103]. Id. at *27–28.

 [104]. Anemona Hartocollis, He Took on the Voting Rights Act and Won. Now He’s Taking on Harvard, N.Y. Times (Nov. 19, 2017), https://nyti.ms/2jFMkOb.  

 [105]. Id. Blum chose the University of Texas at Austin, his own alma mater, as the subject of the challenge. Id. Abigail Fisher was the daughter of Blum’s friend. Id.

 [106]. Id. The Voting Rights Act of 1965 was a response to the deep-rooted history of discrimination in voting. Shelby County v. Holder, 570 U.S. 529, 529–30 (2013). The Act required certain “eligible” districts with a history of voting discrimination to gain official authorization before they could enact any changes to their election laws. Id. at 537–39. To gain authorization, these districts had to prove that the new changes did not have the purpose nor the effect of negatively impacting any individual’s right to vote based on their race. Id. The Supreme Court determined that this Section of the Act was unconstitutional because it imposes current burdens that are no longer responsive to the current conditions of the voting districts. Id. at 555–57.

  Blum’s challenge of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was rooted in his experience in losing a race for Congress in Houston as a Republican. Hartocollis, supra note 104. He was bothered by the district’s “tortured shape, designed to make it easier for a minority candidate to win the seat.” Id.

  Affirmative action sits in a uniquely similar position to the Voting Rights Act of 1965 in that it may be vulnerable to accusations of unconstitutionality based on a court’s determination that the historical discrimination that created the need for such protections are no longer a concern.

 [107]. Hartocollis, supra note 104.

 [108]. Id.

 [109]. Ellis, supra note 8.

 [110]. Id.

 [111]. Id. It is of note that Justice Kennedy was the swing vote in Fisher II, but he has since been replaced by Justice Brett Kavanaugh. Chas Danner, Brett Kavanaugh Sworn in as 114th Supreme Court Justice, Intelligencer (Oct. 7, 2018), http://nymag.com/intelligencer/2018/10/brett-kavanaugh-sworn-in-as-114th-supreme-court-justice.html.

 [112]. Ellis, supra note 8.

 [113]. See generally Docket, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 1:14-cv-14176 (D. Mass.).

 [114]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., 261 F. Supp. 3d 99, 102 (D. Mass. 2017).

 [115]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 1:14-cv-14176, 2017 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 84656, at *2–3 (D. Mass. June 2, 2017); see also Complaint, supra note 7, at 109–11, 114–19; Ellis, supra note 8.

 [116]. Laura Jarrett, Justice Department. Investigating Harvard Over Affirmative Action Policies, CNN (Nov. 21, 2017), http://cnn.it/2hGzjj7.

 [117]. Merrit Kennedy, Justice Department Threatens to Sue Harvard in Admissions Probe, NPR (Nov. 21, 2017), https://n.pr/2mNx1UY.

 [118]. Id.

 [119]. Kirk Carapezza, DOJ Looks Into Whether Harvard Discriminates Against Asian-Americans, NPR (Aug. 3, 2017), https://www.npr.org/541430130 (“Civil rights groups and legal experts are skeptical. ‘It seems entirely consistent with President Trump’s campaign rhetoric,’ says Tomiko Brown-Nagin, a constitutional law professor at Harvard. Brown-Nagin points out that the Trump administration’s decision to target affirmative action policies comes as racial tensions are rising on many campuses.”).

 [120]. David Shortell, Justice Department Sides With Asian-Americans Suing Harvard Over Admissions Policy, CNN (Aug. 30, 2018), https://cnn.it/2POYxf9 (“The record evidence demonstrates that Harvard’s race-based admissions process significantly disadvantages Asian-American applicants compared to applicants of other racial groups—including both white applicants and applicants from other racial minority groups . . . .” (quoting United States’ Statement of Interest in Opposition to Defendant’s Motion for Summary Judgment, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 1:14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018), ECF No. 497)).

 [121]. Id. It is uncertain what impact the DOJ’s involvement will have on the outcome of SFFA v. Harvard or affirmative action in general, though if a federal judge finds Harvard has violated Title VI, the court could order the university to change its admissions policies. Melissa Korn & Nicole Hong, Harvard Faces DOJ Probe Over Affirmative-Action Policies, Wall St. J. (Nov. 21, 2017, 3:12 PM), https://www.wsj.com/articles/harvard-faces-doj-probe-over-affirmative-action-policies-1511260380.

 [122]. Foussianes, supra note 7.

 [123]. Expert Report of Peter S. Arcidiacono at 5, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 415-1. Professor Arcidiacono has an extensive background in studying admissions decisions in higher education. Id.

 [124]. Expert Report of Richard D. Kahlenberg, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 416-1.

 [125]. Report of David Card, Ph.D., Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 419-33; see also Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *44–68 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018). Professor Card specializes in labor economics. Colleen Walsh, Attorney Appears Confident Admissions Case Ruling Will Favor Harvard, Harv. Gazette (Nov. 4, 2018), https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2018/11/harvard-attorney-appears-confident-in-admissions-case-ruling.

 [126]. Joan Biskupic, Harvard Affirmative Action Trial Arguments Come to a Close, CNN (Nov. 3, 2018, 10:00 AM), https://cnn.it/2QbHaVw.

 [127]. Foussianes, supra note 7.

 [128]. Id.

 [129]. Joint Statement Regarding the Submission of Trial Briefs at 1, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. Aug. 13, 2018), ECF No. 478.

 [130]. Plaintiff’s Motion for Summary Judgment at 2, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018), ECF No. 412.

 [131]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 3–4.

 [132]. Id.

 [133]. Id.

 [134]. Id. at 4–5 (quoting Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 389 (2003) (Kennedy, J., dissenting)).

 [135]. Id. at 5–6.

 [136]. Id. at 11.

 [137]. Id. at 12–22 (“In 1920, in a letter to William Hocking, a Harvard philosophy professor, President Lowell wrote that the increasing number of Jewish students enrolling at Harvard would ultimately ‘ruin the college’.”). A Harvard alum wrote a letter to President Lowell indicating desires to maintain the school’s “white image” through the reduction of Jewish students, claiming

[t]he Jew is undoubtedly of high mental order, desires the best education he can get CHEAPEST, and is more persistent than other races in his endeavors to get what he wants. It is self evident, therefore, that by raising the standard of marks he can’t be eliminated from Harvard, whereas by the same process of raising the standard “White” boys ARE eliminated.
. . . Are the Overseers so lacking in genius that they can’t devise a way to bring Harvard back to the position it always held as a “white man’s” college?

Id. at 17–18. President Lowell accepted the perpetuation of these stereotypes in order to protect a “white image” that would be achieved through a subjective, “character” based admissions policy that was undoubtedly created with a purpose to discriminate. Id. at 20 (“President Lowell was elated by these changes, realizing that they ‘provided a tremendous opportunity to impose, at long last, the policy of restriction he had favored since 1922.’”).

 [138]. Id.

 [139]. Id. at 28–34.

 [140]. Id. at 34–36. However, the former Dean of Admissions Fred Jewett, explained that the 112-point disparity in average SAT scores of admitted Asian Americans compared to admitted white students were due to “choosing people who bring talents underrepresented in the applicant pool.” Id. at 36. In addition, the current Dean of Admissions, William Fitzsimmons, recognized the slightly stronger academics of Asian Americans as compared to white applicants, but “blamed the disparity in admissions on Asian Americans, as a group, being ‘slightly less strong on extracurricular criteria.’” Id.

 [141]. Id. at 36–37. However, the complaint stipulates that the Office of Civil Rights’s report was highly criticized for allowing “racial balancing” and creating a pretext for intentional discrimination. Id.at 37.

 [142]. See generally Thomas J. Espenshade & Alexandria W. Radford, No Longer Separate, not yet Equal: Race and Class in Elite Admission and Campus Life (2009) (analyzing college admissions data to explore the composition of applicant pools to selective universities).

 [143]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 40–50.

 [144]. Ron Unz, The Myth of American Meritocracy, Am. Conservative, Dec. 2012, at 14.

 [145]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 49–50 (alteration in original).

 [146]. Id. at 53–55 (specifically referencing Table B).

 [147]. Id. at 56–67. Princeton Review, the “leading guide to college admissions,” gives recommendations for Asian American students applying to elite colleges, stating “the more you sound like”

Asian Joe Bloggs . . . an Asian American applicant with a very high math SAT score, a low or mediocre verbal SAT score, high math- or science-related SAT II scores, high math and science grades, few credits in the humanities, few extracurricular activities, an intended major in math or the sciences, and an ambition to be a doctor, an engineer, or a research scientist,

“the more likely admissions officers will be to treat you as part of the ‘Asian invasion’ and reject your application, or at the very least make you compete against other Asian applicants with similar characteristics, rather than against the applicant pool as a whole.” Id. at 57–58. According to Princeton Review, suppressing one’s ethnic background is important to better an Asian American applicant’s chances of acceptance at elite institutions. See id. at 58–59.

If you’re given an option, don’t attach a photograph to your application and don’t answer the optional question about your ethnic background. . . . Do not write your application essay about the importance of your family or the positive/negative aspects of living in two cultures. These are Asian Joe Bloggs topics, and they are incredibly popular. Instead, write about something entirely unrelated to your ethnic background.

Id.

  There is danger in anecdotal testimony because it is based on personal perception and can be susceptible to bias. While the stories told by the individuals and groups in SFFA’s complaint are useful to understand the way a community of applicants may feel and may potentially be accurate reflections of a situation, it should not be considered direct evidence of discrimination in an admissions policy.

 [148]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *43–44 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018).

 [149]. Expert Report of Peter S. Arcidiacono at 1–10, Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President and Fellows of Harvard College, No. 14-cv-14176 (D. Mass. June 15, 2018), ECF No. 415-1.

 [150]. SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *43–46.

 [151]. See Walsh, supra note 125 (describing Card’s criticisms and some basis for what other experts in the field may believe the proper modeling choice is) (“Lawyers for Harvard also cited an amicus brief field by 16 economists, including two Nobel laureates and former chair of the Federal Reserve Janet Yellen, who backed Card’s approach and labeled Arcidiacono’s findings ‘implausible.’”). Although Arcidiacono’s model may be subject to criticism, there may also be some bias in Card’s approach which includes factors in his regression that are already subject to racial bias.

 [152].               SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *48.

 [153]. Id. at *49–51.

 [154]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 67–72.

 [155]. This approximation is from when the complaint was originally filed. The admissions statistics are from 2006 to 2014, and the enrollment statistics are from 2003 to 2013. Id. at 67–69 (specifically referencing Table C, Table D, and Table E).

 [156]. Id. at 65–66 (“[T]he proportion of Asian Americans with top SAT scores . . . who sent their scores to the most selective Ivy League schools fell from 39.7 percent in the mid-1990s to only 27.4 percent during the 2008, 2010, and 2012 cycles.”). This could indicate that Asian American applicants believe there is some bias in the application process and choose not to even apply to elite Ivy League schools because the perceived odds are against them despite their top SAT scores.

 [157]. Id. at 70.

 [158]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *51–52 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018).

 [159]. Id. at *52–53.

 [160]. Id. Are Asian Americans more likely to be “lopped” than applicants from other racial groups? If there is evidence that Asian Americans have consistently higher rates of “lopping,” then there may be an indication that Asian Americans receive some negative action when their race is considered.

 [161]. Id. at *53–54.

 [162]. Id. at *54.

 [163]. Id. at *54–55. For SFFA to show a racial quota, stable enrollment numbers may not be enough. It may be necessary for SFFA to show that Asian American application rates substantially increased in comparison to white application rates, but their enrollment stayed the same. Indicating that Asian Americans make up a larger portion of the qualified applicant pool but the same proportion of the admitted class would be more helpful than just stable enrollment rates.

 [164]. Id. at *56.

 [165]. Id. at *57.

 [166]. Id. at *59 (quoting Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, 343 (2003)). This is a similar argument to the one made by Edward Blum in Shelby County v. Holder, 133 S. Ct. 2612, 2630–31 (2013), which invalidated the Voting Rights Act of 1965 based on reasoning that the historical discrimination that led to the passage of the act is no longer an issue. See supra note 106 and accompanying text.

 [167]. SFFA, No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *59–60 (quoting Fisher v. Univ. of Texas at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198, 2212 (2016) (Fisher II)).

 [168]. Id. at *61–62.

 [169]. Id. at *62.

 [170]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 72–93.

 [171]. Id. at 72–73. SFFA argues that Harvard fails to give proper weight to these socioeconomic factors in its admissions policy based on the lack of socioeconomic diversity in comparison to racial diversity that exists in its student body. Id. at 76.

 [172]. Id. at 77–78.

 [173]. Id. at 78–81 (“Harvard focuses its recruitment in parts of the country with small numbers of socioeconomically disadvantaged achievers and neglects regions with a significant number of such students. . . . This failure to recruit socioeconomically disadvantaged students is reflected in Harvard’s applicant pool.”).

 [174]. Id. at 81–86. Harvard’s acceptance rate for legacy applicants is “about 30 percent, which is roughly five times the rate at which all other applicants are admitted to Harvard.” Id. at 81. Legacy preferences tend to “give a competitive advantage to mainly white, wealthy applicants, while undermining the chances for admission of socioeconomically disadvantaged and minority applicants.” Id. Harvard’s propensity to give preferences to non-legacy, wealthy donor applicants also gives a competitive advantage to mainly white applicants. Id. at 83 (“Minority students are far less likely to be children of wealthy donors.”).

  This creates a separate discussion about the use of legacy preferences and whether they are merely a thinly-veiled way for universities to give admissions preferences to a group of applicants that tend to be whiter and wealthier than the general applicant pool.

 [175]. Students for Fair Admissions, Inc. v. President & Fellows of Harvard Coll., No. 14-cv-14176, 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 167901, at *66 (D. Mass. Sept. 28, 2018).

 [176]. Id. at *64–66.

 [177]. Id. at *66–67.

 [178]. See Shelby County v. Holder, 570 U.S. 529, 551–52 (2013) (reevaluating the legality of policies under the lens of their current existence, even if there was a “long history as a tool for perpetuating the evil”).

 [179]. Yick Wo v. Hopkins, 118 U.S. 356, 360 (1886). The constant admission rates of Asian Americans are unlikely to be a severe enough discriminatory impact to allow a presumption of discriminatory intent as it was in Yick Wo, so SFFA will have to find other evidence to indicate Harvard’s intent to discriminate against Asian Americans in their admissions policy. This is a high burden for SFFA to meet. See supra note 65 (describing how all two hundred applications that were submitted by Chinese owners were denied while virtually all of the non-Chinese applicants were granted a permit).

 [180]. See Espenshade & Radford, supra note 142, at 412.

 [181]. Kidder, supra note 75, at 614–16.

The upshot of the fact that White admitees outnumber Blacks/Latinos 3-to-1, and the aforementioned discussion about the composition of actual and likely pool of admitees is that Espenshade and Chung’s study contains a “yellow peril causation fallacy” that misidentifies [Asian Americans] as the group poised to be the biggest numerical winners if affirmative action ended at elite universities. In other words, when an [Asian American] applicant in their dataset is denied admission because of negative action despite a strong transcript and say a 1510 or 1430 or 1360 on the SAT, it is exceedingly more likely that the student admitted instead was a White applicant with slightly lower academic credentials, not a Black or Latino applicant given an affirmative action plus factor.

Id. at 615–16.

 [182]. Is it possible for schools to consider an over-representation of white students? There is a perception that schools can be “too Asian,” damaging the appeal of a university, but the same is not said for schools that are predominately white. Does the conception of over-representation apply the same to other minorities? Because while it seems that our society would be appalled at the prospect of a school being considered “too black” or “too Hispanic,” why doesn’t our society believe calling a school “too Asian” is equally racist?

 [183]. If there was a hypothetical where diversity was deemed not to be a compelling interest and the entire Harvard class consisted only of Asian Americans accepted by “objective” criteria, would SFFA be satisfied with the result? What if the entire Harvard class consisted only of white students? If neither of these outcomes are satisfactory to a society, we cannot deny the compelling interest of diversity and the potential “balancing” required to achieve it.

 [184]. See Fisher v. Univ. of Texas at Austin, 136 S. Ct. 2198, 2211–15 (2016) (Fisher II) (“[A] university bears a heavy burden in showing that it had not obtained the educational benefits of diversity before it turned to a race-conscious plan.”) (“It is the University’s ongoing obligation to engage in constant deliberation and continued reflection regarding its admission policies.”).

 [185]. Chin et al., supra note 80, at 161.

A genuine commitment to class equality would lead one to target resources at an individual’s formative years as with anti-poverty programs that provide adequate housing, nutrition, and education to children. But oddly enough, the programs mentioned so far would instead give mild preferences late in life, in admissions or employment. This should give us cause for skepticism.

Id.

 [186]. Goodwin Liu, The Causation Fallacy: Bakke and the Basic Arithmetic of Selective Admissions, 100 Mich. L. Rev. 1045, 1048 (2002).

 [187]. West-Faulcon, supra note 83, at 594.

 [188]. Liu, supra note 186, at 1048. “Many white students who were denied admission did not lose out because of minority students, but because of tight limits on enrollment. In other words, many qualified white applicants probably would have been turned down even if no minority students had applied.” Id. at 1048 n.13 (quoting John Iwasaki, Affirmative Action Aids White Students Too; Stereotype False, State Study Says, Seattle Post-Intelligencer, Nov. 19, 1995, at A9).

 [189]. Liu, supra note 186, at 1078.

 [190]. Id. at 1064–68 (“[B]lack and white applicants with similar SAT scores might not be similarly situated with respect to nonacademic admissions criteria.”).

 [191]. Id. at 1046.

 [192]. Affirmative action sits within the broader idea of race-conscious admissions, but they are not the same thing. Not all admissions policies that consider race are affirmative action policies. An example of this would be a policy that enables bias against Asian American applicants in comparison to white applicants, thus giving white applicants a type of plus factor over those Asian American applicants. I think Asian Americans could potentially fare better if race-conscious admissions were banned but would not if just affirmative action was due to the causation fallacy. The difference would be that race-conscious admissions have the ability to contain negative action against Asian Americans while affirmative action inherently does not. There is space in this discussion to both remedy the grievances Asian Americans feel through the devaluation of their personal attributes and maintain the affirmative action policies necessary to fulfill the compelling interest of educational diversity.

 [193]. West-Faulcon, supra note 83, at 603.

 [194]. Id. at 604–05 (“[U]niversities do not select students solely based on SAT scores and . . . SAT scores are racially skewed as a general matter.”) (“[F]or reasons that range from the theoretical and measurement limitations of g-based standardized tests like the SAT to the fact that African Americans belong to the racial group that has been most severely harmed by American Jim Crow racism, housing segregation, public educational opportunity gaps, and disparities in economic opportunities.” (footnotes omitted)).

 [195]. See Liu, supra note 186, at 1096. At the very least, we would be better off urging top colleges to commit to genuine educational diversity that places a greater emphasis on different types of diversity like first-generation status, diversity in faculty, and diversity in the types of cultural histories taught at these schools, rather than attacking affirmative action. How often are general education classes taught from the point of view of an African American student or from the perspective of a woman? So often the education system focuses on the accomplishments of white males and fails to recognize the value of a diverse core curriculum, and this affects the way our future leaders exist and shape our society.

 [196]. For example, the “positive” stereotype that Asian Americans are successful works to diminish the success achieved by Asian Americans as expected or ordinary. This requires Asian Americans to be held to a higher standard in comparison to each other in order to stand out. There is a feeling among the Asian American community that one must be extraordinary to just seem average. In addition, a positive stereotype of Asian Americans as hard workers easily becomes translated into Asian Americans being unfair competitors.

 [197]. Chew, supra note 49, at 40–41.

Employers might tend to see Asian Americans as homogeneous and suited for certain defined roles that are consistent with society’s image. . . . While society may consider Asian Americans hard working and intelligent, especially in math, Asian American faculty may be considered “too nice” to be intellectually demanding and rigorous professors and scholars.

Id.

 [198]. Id. at 53.

A comparison of the number of Asian Americans in managerial and professional positions versus the number of Asian Americans with bachelor and graduate degrees evidences this disparity. One would generally expect individuals with bachelor or graduate degrees to hold managerial or professional positions. For example, 23.6 million whites hold bachelor or graduate degrees and, comparably, 26.5 million whites hold managerial or professional positions—a ratio of 1.12. Accordingly, one would expect the number of Asian Americans with this education level to correspond to the number of Asian Americans in these positions. Instead, the number of Asian Americans with these degrees (1.3 million) is significantly higher than the number in managerial or professional positions (1 million)—a ratio of 0.77.

Id. (footnotes omitted).

  This should lead us to question whether the traditional beliefs about what constitutes an exemplary manager or professional are correct. If what we value as an ideal manager has race and gender stereotypes built in, a re-conception of what good leadership qualities are may be necessary. For example, if Asian Americans tend to value humility but our society rewards those who are assertive, are Asian Americans under-promoted because they are less qualified or because our society is not open to the concept that a better manager may be soft-spoken instead of self-promoting? In the educational context, what do we expect from the ideal candidate? Is it possible that the qualities we revere are subject to bias based on racial stereotypes?

 [199]. Id. at 55. There is a stigma that Asian Americans have inherent advantages compared to other minorities that enable them to succeed without deserving it, perpetuating the model minority myth.

 [200]. Id. at 63.

 [201]. Intraracial, Your Dictionary, https://www.yourdictionary.com/intraracial (last visited Jan. 21, 2019).

 [202]. Intraracial diversity is diversity within a race, while interracial diversity is diversity of races. Intraracial, supra note 201; Interracial, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com
/dictionary/interracial (last visited Jan. 21, 2019). Intraracial diversity works to break down racial stereotypes by demonstrating a wide array of experiences within races, while interracial diversity works to take down segregation and inequality of opportunity in the education system. The argument urging for equality in the conception of diversity is separate from wanting intraracial diversity.

 [203]. For example, an Asian American cannot play an instrument, be good at math or science, or want to be a doctor or engineer without being considered “a typical Asian candidate.” Are white applicants allowed to excel in any area without it being considered a byproduct of their racial background? Do we view a white applicant who is a concert pianist, a varsity basketball player, an exceptional painter, or a national merit scholar as creating intra-racial diversity? In addition, when Asian Americans go against racial stereotypes, such as by participating in sports, it is often greeted with skepticism or under-valued. See Ling Woo Liu, Opinion, Why Jeremy Lin’s Race Matters, CNN (Feb. 14, 2012), https://www.cnn.com/2012/02/13/opinion/jeremy-lin-race/index.html (describing how Asian American basketball player Jeremy Lin was met with skepticism based on stereotypes that Asian Americans do not play basketball).

Lin himself has been candid about the racism he’s encountered along the way. “It’s a sport for white and black people,” he told the San Francisco Chronicle in 2008. “You don’t get respect for being an Asian-American basketball player in the U.S. . . . I hear everything. ‘Go back to China. Orchestra is on the other side of campus. Open up your eyes.’”

Id. If the stereotype associated with Asian Americans is one of “overachievement,” is the only way to break down the stereotype to underachieve? See Jeff Yang, Opinion, Harvard Lawsuit Is not what It Seems, CNN (Nov. 4, 2014), http://www.cnn.com/2014/11/24/opinion/yang-harvard-lawsuit/index.html (describing how he would have been denied admission based on his grades but an interviewer made the case that he had intangibles that would be an asset to the student body, though the assets that distinguished him were to be an “underachiever” academically and in stereotypically “Asian” activities) (“What saved my application was the optional interview I’d done on campus, in which I’d ended up talking about everything that wasn’t in my application: My aspirations to be a writer. . . . The fact that I actually really, really suck at piano.”). Although this Note focuses on stereotypes attached to Asian Americans, they are not the only minority group to be adversely affected by negative and positive stereotypes, and they should be questioned for all racial groups. See generally Geoffrey L. Cohen & Julio Garcia, “I Am Us”: Negative Stereotypes as Collective Threats, 89 J. Personality & Soc. Psychol. 566 (2005) (discussing how negative stereotypes of a group impact individuals within that group); Exploring the Negative Consequences of Stereotyping, Univ. of Ariz. News (Nov. 20, 2003), https://uanews.arizona.edu/story
/exploring-negative-consequences-stereotyping (same); Laura Green, Negative Racial Stereotypes and Their Effect on Attitudes Toward African-Americans, Ferris St. U., https://www.ferris.edu/htmls/news
/jimcrow/links/essays/vcu.htm (last visited Jan. 21, 2019) (discussing racial stereotypes of African Americans).

 [204]. Complaint, supra note 7, at 58–59 (describing recommendations that Asian American applicants not write application essays related to their ethnic background). Asian American encompasses many different groups of people and to dismiss the value this diversity could bring to elite universities should be questioned. The immigrant story of an Asian American should not be viewed any less favorably toward a “personal rating” than the story from another applicant.

 [205]. Regents of Univ. of Cal. v. Bakke, 438 U.S. 265, 323 (1978).

A farm boy from Idaho can bring something to Harvard College that a Bostonian cannot offer. Similarly, a black student can usually bring something that a white person cannot offer. The quality of the educational experience of all the students in Harvard College depends in part on these differences in the background and outlook that students bring with them.

Id.

 [206]. Bella English, To Get Into Elite Colleges, Some Advised to “Appear Less Asian, Boston Globe (June 1, 2015), https://www.bostonglobe.com/lifestyle/2015/06/01/college-counselors-advise-some-asian-students-appear-less-asian/Ew7g4JiQMiqYNQlIwqEIuO/story.html.

 [207]. Kang, supra note 83, at 15 (“The glib assertion that Asian Americans are ‘overrepresented’ at certain universities is less a description of empirical fact than a value judgment. It presumes that the percentage of Asian Americans at each university should reflect their percentage of the national population.”).

 [208]. Stephan Thernstorm, Farewell to Preferences?, 130 Pub. Int., Winter 1998, at 34, 42–43 (quoting Bob Beckel, CNN Crossfire co-host) (“Would you like to see the UCLA Law School 80 percent Asian? Because at the rate it is going . . . by the year 2007 UCLA will be 80 percent Asian. Will that make you happy?”); Student Quits at U.C.L.A. over Rant, N.Y. Times (March 19, 2011), https://nyti.ms/2q8wlak (describing Alexandra Wallace, a UCLA student, who posted a video complaining about Asians in the library where she stated, “the problem is these hordes of Asian people that U.C.L.A. accepts into our school every single year”); Emma Whitford, When Asians Are Targets of Racism, Inside Higher Educ. (Oct. 11, 2018), https://www.insidehighered.com/news/2018/10/11/anti-asian-messages-spread-washington-university-st-louis (explaining a series of messages between Washington University in St. Louis students with one stating, “[w]hy are Asians invading our study room”).

 [209]. See Matsuda, supra note 5, at 153.

 [210]. For Asian Americans, the model minority myth has created pressure for performance to require “super-achievement.” This norm of “super-achievement” and needing to distinguish oneself from the rest of the Asian American community can be debilitating. To add to this, when Asian Americans are told it is better to not check anything than to check the “Asian box” on a college application, this outward demonstration of society’s lack of acceptance can lead to negative self-image in young Asian Americans. See Jean S. Phinney, The Multigroup Ethnic Identity Measure: A New Scale for Use with Diverse Groups, 7 J. Adolescent Res. 156, 156–57 (1992) (describing that ethnic identity is central to the self-identity of minority individuals); Chew, supra note 49, at 84 (“Many Asian Americans believe that they are more likely to be successfully assimilated into American society if they do not publicly identify their minority status.”). See generally Joan E. Rigdon, Exploding Myth—Asian American Youth Suffer Rising Toll from Heavy Pressures: Suicides and Distress Increase as They Face Stereotypes and Parents’ Expectations, Wall St. J., July 10, 1991, at A1.

 [211]. Chew, supra note 49, at 73 (“They have pinned their hopes for economic survival on individual efforts rather than on collective political activities . . . .”). See generally Michelle Diggles, The Untapped Political Power of Asian Americans, Third Way (Jan. 15, 2015), https://www.thirdway.org/report/the-untapped-political-power-of-asian-americans (describing how and why Asian American political participation has lagged behind other racial and ethnic groups).

 [212]. See Agnes Constante, In California, Asian Americans Find Growing Political Power, NBC News (April 19, 2018, 5:42 AM), https://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/california-asian-americans-find-growing-political-power-n866611 (illustrating the rise in Asian American political participation); Ross Douthat, Opinion, The Asian-American Age: At the Movies and in Court, a Rising Minority Claims the Spotlight, N.Y. Times (Sept. 1, 2018), https://nyti.ms/2MLuEyA (describing Asian American political participation with special focus on affirmative action).

 [213]. Chin et al., supra note 80, at 51.

Pitting racial minority groups against one another represents the worst form of divide-and-conquer political strategy. [Asian Americans] must refuse to believe that they are superior to Whites, non-Whites, or anyone else. . . . History teaches us that not long ago, the exact same criticisms were leveled at us: that we were the stupid, the unassimilable, the depraved, the criminal.

Id. (emphasis in original).

 [214]. Chew, supra note 49, at 88.

 [215]. Chin et al., supra note 80, at 133–34 (posing these same questions to white people). For the first question, Asian Americans can benefit from racial discrimination because while the model minority myth is damaging to Asian Americans, it is also damaging to other minorities by categorizing them as something less than “model.” In addition, Asian Americans benefit from affirmative action, both historically in the education context and continuously, in areas where there is “under-parity” of Asian Americans, such as in many professional contexts. Kidder, supra note 75, at 623–24. For the second question, the systematic and rampant racism against African Americans that stems from several historical factors including slavery, Reconstruction, Jim Crow laws, unequal prison sentencing, and de facto segregation means that the opportunity for the American Dream is not equally available for all minority groups. See Angela Hanks et al., Systematic Inequality: How America’s Structural Racism Helped Create the Black-White Wealth Gap, Ctr. for Am. Progress (Feb. 21, 2018), https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/race/reports/2018/02/21/447051/systematic-inequality. This does not invalidate discrimination felt by Asian Americans but should be clearly understood when considering this question.

 [216]. Chew, supra note 49, at 75; Matsuda, supra note 5, at 153–54.

Whose Bathroom Is It, Anyway?: The Legal Status of Transgender Bathroom Access Under Federal Employment Law – Note by Allison Bader

From Volume 91, Number 4 (May 2018)
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Whose Bathroom is it, anyway?: The Legal Status of Transgender Bathroom Access Under Federal Employment Law

Allison Bader[*]

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. Background

A. Defining Transgender

B. History of Transgender Status & Rights in the United States

C. Transgender Bathroom Access in the United States

D. Transgender Bathroom Access in the Workplace

II. Federal Anti-Discrimination Laws and Transgender Rights

A. Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964

B. Comparison to Transgender Status Protections under Other Federal Laws

III. Executive Branch Incoherence on Transgender Protections

A. Trump Administration Changes Direction

B. Federal Agencies in Conflict

IV. Federal Courts’ Approaches to Gender Identity Discrimination and Transgender Bathroom
Access

A. Circuit Split in Title VII Interpretation

B. Cases Interpreting Title VII to Protect Transgender
Status

C. Federal Cases Interpreting Title VII to Not Encompass Gender Identity Discrimination

D. Federal Cases Addressing Bathroom Access

V. Arguments for Competing Interpretations of Title VII as Pertaining to Transgender Bathroom
Access

A. Supporters of The DOJ’s Position on Transgender Bathroom Access

B. Supporters of the EEOC’s Position on Transgender Bathroom Access

VI. Analysis

A. Interpretation of “Sex” in Title VII

B. Equal Bathroom Access and Discrimination

C. Policy Implications of Bathroom Access

Conclusion

 

INTRODUCTION

In many ways, Michael C. Hughes is an average American family man. He is a middle-aged father of four from Rochester, Minnesota. He has been married to his wife for twelve years. He has a broad, muscular frame and is partial to cowboy hats and wide belt buckles. But Hughes is unlike the average American family man in one fundamental way: he was born biologically female.[1] Hughes is one of the more than 1.4 million transgender adults in the United States,[2] a small but increasingly visible group of people who are currently facing a unique legal battle to use restrooms and single-sex facilities that align with their gender identity.[3]

Hughes garnered publicity with a viral photo taken in a public restroom, in protest of “bathroom bills”—laws that require Hughes to use women’s restrooms and facilities, despite his gender identity.[4] “Bathroom bill” is the common name for legislation that prohibits individuals from using bathrooms (or other private, single-sex facilities like locker rooms) that do not match their biological sex or sex markers on their identification documents, depending on the bill.[5] Posing in front of the bathroom mirror in a women’s restroom, as female patrons look on questioningly, Hughes “presents” as a malemaking him appear out of place in the restroom that nonetheless matches his biological sex. Hughes’ photo and its accompanying hashtag, “#WeJustNeedtoPee,” went viral in 2016, reflecting Americans’ rapt attention on transgender issues.[6]

Hughes’ photo was a direct reaction to North Carolina’s Public Facilities Privacy & Security Act, or House Bill 2 (“H.B. 2”), which to date remains the only bathroom bill to successfully pass a state legislature.[7] H.B. 2 was enacted shortly after the passage of Ordinance 7056 in Charlotte, North Carolina, which prohibited discrimination on the basis of gender identity in Charlotte’s public accommodations and, in doing so, permitted transgender people to use the restrooms of their choosing.[8] H.B. 2 prohibited individuals from using bathrooms and changing facilities in government buildingsincluding schools, government agencies, and courthousesthat did not correspond with the sex listed on their birth certificates.[9] The bill also overturned Charlotte Ordinance 7056 and prohibited municipalities from enacting their own anti-discrimination policies.[10] Many transgender rights activists argued that H.B. 2 was the most anti-LGBT piece of legislation then operating in the United States.[11] It launched a series of lawsuits, as proponents and opponents of the bill prepared to battle over the application and extent of transgender rights.[12] It also faced severe pushback and resulted in harm to North Carolina’s economy and public image.[13] On March 30, 2017, a year after H.B. 2’s passage, both the state House and Senate partially overturned the bill, doing away with the prohibition on transgender bathroom access.[14] 

Although there are currently no state laws prohibiting transgender individuals from using the bathroom of their choice, transgender bathroom access remains an important issue for two reasons. First, numerous bathroom bills are currently pending: in the 2017 legislative session alone, sixteen states[15] considered legislation that would restrict transgender access to bathrooms, locker rooms, and other sex-segregated facilities that match their assigned sex at birth or “biological sex.”[16] Second, private employers may adopt policies or practices preventing their transgender employees from accessing bathrooms and other single-sex facilities corresponding to their gender identity. This Note will focus on this second issue, dealing specifically with the legality of private employers policies restricting transgender bathroom access.

While transgender people have become more prominent in mainstream America over the last ten years, their status under the law is still an open question in many areas. This includes whether transgender employees are legally entitled to access bathrooms and single-sex facilities matching their gender identity in the workplace. The answer to this question is far from clear: in the absence of explicit federal protections against transgender discrimination, advocates and supporters look to Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (“Title VII”), the main source of federal employment anti-discrimination law. Title VII prohibits discrimination on the basis of “sex” in employment and thus potentially provides protection for transgender persons against discrimination in the workplace.[17]

Multiple federal agencies, including the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (“EEOC”), an independent federal agency that oversees enforcement of Title VII, have issued guidances that affirm these federal laws protect transgender employees from discrimination.[18] The Obama administration also embraced this view.[19] And multiple federal courts have found federal laws prohibiting sex discrimination also cover discrimination on the basis of transgender status, including the Courts of Appeals for the First, Sixth, Ninth, and Eleventh Circuits and lower courts in the second and fifth circuits. However, some argue that these agencies, the Obama administration, and the courts overstepped their sphere of authority and argue that Title VII was never intended to (and thus should not) offer protection for transgender status.[20] This includes Attorney General Jeff Sessions, who has helped steer the Trump-era Department of Justice in the direction of rolling back administrative policies that offered transgender employees protections in the workplace.[21]

This question is hotly debated, and both sides of the aisle have made public policy arguments in support of their interpretation of the law. Proponents of these policies cite privacy concerns, employee comfort, and the protection of women and children as the motivation for these policies.[22] On the other hand, opponents argue these concerns are at best a myth and at worst a thinly veiled pretext for denying transgender people equal rights.[23] Moreover, they claim that not allowing transgender employees to access bathrooms corresponding to their gender identity poses serious privacy and safety concerns for those employees.[24]

This Note will critically analyze arguments on both sides. Ultimately, this Note argues that Title VII should be read to protect transgender status and gender identity from discrimination on the basis of sex. Thus, employer policies that prevent transgender employees from using bathrooms matching their gender identity violate the provisions of Title VII that protect individuals from discrimination on the basis of sex. When this issue eventually goes to the Supreme Court, the Court should affirm that transgender people are protected from discrimination and disparate treatment in their employment under federal law and that denying them access to bathrooms matching their gender identity in the workplace is a form of discrimination.

This Note will proceed in six parts. Part I defines terms and describes the history of transgender status and bathroom access under the law. Part II provides background information on Title VII and discusses how other federal laws protecting against discrimination on the basis of sex, like Title IX, have been interpreted with regard to transgender status and bathroom access. Part III discusses the disjointed stance taken by the executive branch, including the postures of the Trump administration and administrative agencies. Part IV outlines various federal courts’ approaches to transgender rights under Title VII, including bathroom access. Part V introduces the various arguments for and against reading Title VII as prohibiting discrimination on the basis of transgender status. Finally, Part VI argues that federal law protects transgender people from discrimination on the basis of their gender identity in employment and prohibits private employer policies that restrict transgender bathroom access.

I.  Background

A.  Defining Transgender

Before diving into the substance of the debate over transgender discrimination’s legal protections, it is helpful to define the terms that will be used throughout this Note and provide brief information on transgender individuals. Transgender people (or “transpersons”) identify with a gender that does not correspond to their biological sex as assigned at birth.[25] Most commonly, transgender people identify with the opposite sex from what they were assigned at birth.[26] For example, a person who was born biologically male but identifies as a female is referred to as a transwoman, and a person who was born biologically female but identifies as a male is called a transman. However, the term transgender may also apply to people who do not exclusively identify as either male or female—for example, genderfluid, genderqueer, and agender people, and those who identify with a third gender outside of the male-female binary.[27] The term transgender does not conventionally apply to cross-dressers—individuals who derive pleasure or satisfaction from dressing as the opposite sex—unless those individuals have gender identities that do not match their sex at birth.[28] Finally, it is a common misconception that being transgender relates in some way to sexual orientation. However, transgender status is completely separate from sexual orientation, and transgender individuals can be straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and so on.[29]

 A “gender transition” is the process by which transgender people begin “presenting” as their gender identity (that is, taking steps to outwardly appear as the sex matching their gender identity and identifying themselves as such). This process is sometimes coupled with undergoing medical treatments or procedures to change their biological sex.[30] These medical treatments may include the following: hormone replacement treatment; breast reduction or augmentation; and sexual reassignment surgery, which involves reconstructing the genitals to match those of the biological sex that corresponds with the individual’s gender identity.[31] Not all transgender people undergo procedures or medical treatment in their transitions, and the desire or intent to have medical procedures is not a requirement for being transgender. When a transgender person physically appears as the sex corresponding with their gender identity to the public at large, this is called “passing.”[32]

Transgender status is no longer considered a mental health disorder by the American Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (“DSM”), though it once was.[33] However, the DSM and many mental health professionals recognize “gender dysphoria”—the discomfort and distress associated with one’s assigned gender role—as a mental health disorder in need of treatment.[34] Indeed, treatment plans can include “counseling, cross-sex hormones, puberty suppression and gender reassignment surgery.[35]

It is important to note that the word “transsexual,” which was previously used to describe transpeople, is disfavored by the transgender community[36] and will not be used in this Note.

B.  History of Transgender Status & Rights in the United States

Transgender status and the concept of gender identity is not a recent phenomenon. Individuals from many cultures over time have identified with genders that do not match their biological sex.[37] For example, many Native American tribes recognized a third gender, which embraced biological males who identified with a gender separate from male and female.[38] These individuals were sometimes referred to as “two-spirit” people.[39] According to some scholars, at least 155 Native American tribes historically accepted these two-spirit people who existed outside of the gender binary.[40] In addition, during the American Civil War, many biological women disguised their sex to fight as soldiers; although most who survived presumably lived as women after the war, some lived out the rest of their lives as men.[41] The most famous example, Albert Cashier, “served in the army as a man, lived his life as [a] man and was buried at 71 with full military honors in 1915, as a man,” despite being biologically female.[42] Almost a century after the Civil War, in 1951, Christine Jorgensen became famous for undergoing the first sex reassignment surgery that was widely publicized in the United States, bringing an early transition to light.[43]

But while people have long identified as transgender, at least in effect if not in name, there is no question that transgender people and the legal questions surrounding their rights have become much more visible in the last decade. Transgender celebrities like Chaz Bono (formerly Chastity Bono), the son of musicians Cher and Sonny Bono, and Matrix directors Lana and Lilly Wachowski (formerly Larry and Andrew Wachowski) brought media attention to transgender people by publicly coming out in 2009, 2010, and 2016, respectively.[44] In 2014, Laverne Cox, a transgender woman and star of the Netflix hit show Orange is the New Black, became the first openly transgender person to be nominated for an Emmy in an acting category for her portrayal of the transgender inmate Sophia Burset.[45] In the same year, Ms. Cox was on the cover of Time, stirring up conversations about transgender people and gender identity at dinner tables across the country.[46]

Finally came a tipping point for transgender visibility: Olympic gold medal-winning decathlete Caitlyn Jenner (formerly Bruce Jenner) publicly came out as a transwoman in April 2015.[47] Ms. Jenner’s coming out was, in many ways, the perfect vehicle for bringing transgender issues to light. To older generations, the 67-year-old was an American hero and phenom who brought home gold in the 1974 Olympics.[48] To younger generations, Jenner was the stepfather of Kim Kardashian and member of the Kardashian clan, one of America’s most famous families. As arguably the most famous openly transgender person in the world, Ms. Jenner’s public coming-out and televised transition firmly solidified transgender people as prominent players in media and entertainment.

Most recently, in a historic moment for transgender representation in government, Virginia House of Delegates candidate Danica Roem became the first openly transgender woman to win a seat in a state legislature in November 2017.[49] Roem’s win was particularly notable because she unseated incumbent Republican candidate Robert G. Marshall, the author of Virginia’s ultimately unsuccessful bathroom bill.

Yet despite these changes, the legal status of transgender people and the rights they are afforded vary widely across the country and depend on the laws enacted within each state. Though the 14th Amendment includes a general guarantee of equal protection,[50] transgender people are not explicitly a protected class under federal law.[51] Congress has repeatedly tried, and failed, to pass the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (“ENDA”), a law that would include explicit protections against both sexual orientation and gender identity discrimination in the workplace.[52] Given the current makeup of the Republican-controlled Congress, it seems unlikely the ENDA or a similar law will pass anytime soon.[53] Thus, there are no over-arching federal laws offering employees protection from discrimination on the basis of transgender status. As of January 2017, twenty-one states and at least 225 local jurisdictions had adopted legislation specifically prohibiting discrimination based on gender identity or transgender status.[54] These protections variably include prohibitions on discrimination in housing, employment, and public accommodations.[55]

Nevertheless, many questions remain for transgender people in the remaining states, who face potential discrimination from employers, schools, and the state itself without recourse. This is especially true since the Supreme Court has not addressed whether existing federal laws, like Title VII, apply to transgender status or prevent discrimination on the basis of gender identity.[56] Throughout history, transgender people have faced, and continue to face, discrimination in a variety of areas including: employment, housing, public accommodations, education, health, marriage, parenting, and adoption.[57] Transgender people are also predisposed to higher levels of depression and suicide, face substantially higher homelessness rates, and are more often victims of violent crimes than their non-transgender peers.[58] Unfortunately, transgender people do not fare any better in the workplace; 47% of those surveyed by the National Transgender Discrimination Survey reported experiencing adverse job outcomes as a result of their transgender status and 90% reported experiencing harassment, mistreatment, or discrimination on the job.[59]

C.  Transgender Bathroom Access in the United States

The laws surrounding transgender peoples’ access to restrooms and other single-sex facilities matching their gender identity is equally muddy. In some states, using a restroom that does not match an individual’s biological sex or “official” state-recognized sex found on identification documents is not a criminal act.[60] Other states have gone further and passed non-discrimination laws that specifically give individuals the right to use single-sex restrooms and other gendered public accommodations that conform with their gender identity.[61] In these states, there are no legal repercussions for transgender people who use restrooms or facilities that do not match their biological sex or identification markers.

In other states, using a public restroom that does not correspond with an individual’s biological or state-recognized sex is quasi-illegal.[62] This means that if an individual is told to leave a restroom by a security guard or police officer and refuses, they may be cited or arrested for disturbing the peace.

At the other end of the spectrum, some states have passed or considered bathroom bills that specifically require individuals to use restrooms and other single-sex facilities that match the sex listed on their birth certificates.[63] In these jurisdictions, transgender people must use facilities corresponding to the sex that is listed on their IDs, use gender neutral or “family” restrooms, or use restrooms specifically designated for transgender people.[64] While North Carolina remains the only state to pass a bathroom bill, Florida, Arizona, Texas, and Kentucky are among states that have considered such laws.[65]

Finally, some jurisdictions have taken a different approach to resolve this problem, addressing the facilities themselves. For example, California passed a law in September 2016 that required all single-occupancy restrooms to be gender-neutral.[66] Although this law is limited to single-occupancy restrooms and does not apply to many restrooms in the state, it is one of the more progressive approaches taken by a state. Vermont passed a similar law on May 11, 2018.[67] As of May 2018, no other states had passed similar legislation.

D.  Transgender Bathroom Access in the Workplace

Additional legal questions are implicated when examining transgender bathroom access in the employment sphere. Without the passage of an amendment to Title VII or clarification from the Supreme Court, it is unclear whether the prohibition on “sex” discrimination in the workplace applies to discrimination on the basis of transgender status or gender identity. If it does apply to such discrimination, bathroom bills restricting transgender access to gender identity-affirming facilities would violate federal law. Moreover, this could make private employers liable for discrimination under Title VII if they refuse to allow their transgender employees to access facilities matching their gender identities.

However, even if transgender status was covered by the word “sex” in Title VII, it is unclear whether prohibiting employees from using restrooms or other single-sex facilities that do not correspond with their biological sex is discriminatory. The argument has been made that employers enforcing such rules would not be discriminating on the basis of sex because they would be allowing all employees to have equal access to the restroom or single-sex facility that matches that individual’s biological sex.[68] Of course, opponents of bathroom bills and other restrictions on transgender bathroom access argue that such actions are discriminatory because they allow cisgender employees to access bathrooms matching their gender identities, but not transgender employees, resulting in disparate treatment.[69]             

There is an additional wrinkle: the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (“OSHA”), an agency of the United States Department of Labor, views bathroom access as a basic condition of employment and “requires employers to provide their employees with toilet facilities.”[70] For this reason, OSHA prohibits employers from putting “unreasonable restrictions” on employees’ restroom access.[71] To the extent that requiring a transgender employee to use the bathroom that corresponds with their biological sex may be interpreted to “unreasonably restrict” that individual’s access to employer restrooms, employers may be legally required to offer transgender employees an alternative.[72] This may feasibly include access to either a private or gender-neutral bathroom or to a bathroom matching that individual’s gender identity.

II.  Federal Anti-Discrimination Laws and Transgender Rights

A.  Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964

Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 is the fundamental federal employment discrimination law in the United States. Title VII states that an employer covered under the act may not discriminate against employees on the basis of their race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.[73] Specifically, Title VII prohibits discrimination on the basis of these protected categories in the terms, conditions, and privileges of employment. Thus, employees do not have a claim for disparate treatment under Title VII, unless their employer took an adverse employment action against them because of their race, color, religion, sex, or national origin. Although Title VII breaks up employers into two categories, federal employers and private sector employers, and addresses them separately, the laws are analogous in their prohibition of discrimination on the basis of the defined protected characteristics.[74] The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (“EEOC”) is tasked with interpreting and enforcing Title VII.

What is covered under “sex” discrimination has long been a subject for debate and has been interpreted to cover an expanding set of actions over time.[75] When the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was originally proposed, it did not include sex as one of the characteristics it would protect from employment discrimination.[76] At the time, the concept of prohibiting employers from discriminating against female employees (who were deemed to be covered by this protection) was so radical that it almost prevented the Civil Rights Act from being passed.[77] In fact, some argue that staunch civil rights opponent, Representative Howard W. Smith (Virginia), proposed that the bill include sex “to prevent discrimination against another minority group, the women,” in an effort to kill the bill.[78] Nonetheless, the Civil Rights Act, with Title VII, was passed.[79] In its early days, the EEOC largely ignored sex as a discrimination category under Title VII and viewed it as a “fluke” that was not intended by the passage of the bill.[80] As protection against sex discrimination has grown to be a critical element of Title VII, however, the slapdash birth of sex as a protected category has made questions of what Congress intended to protect somewhat unclear.

Because Title VII does not define “sex” or make explicit reference to protection for transgender status, it is unclear if discrimination against transgender employees is protected under the law. One of the earliest legal challenges to whether transgender status was a protected characteristic came in 1984, in Ulane v. Eastern Airlines, Inc.[81] In Ulane, a pilot who was born biologically male underwent sex reassignment surgery and began publicly identifying as a woman. She was terminated because of her transition, as the airline argued she would distract her flight crew and prevent them from working in a manner conducive to safety. Ulane subsequently filed a claim with the EEOC for sex discrimination in violation of Title VII. At the trial court level, District Court Judge Grady held for Ulane, finding that Eastern Airlines had discriminated against Ulane on the basis of her transgender status, which was covered as a form of sex discrimination under Title VII.[82] Judge Grady also found that Ulane was discriminated against for being a woman, which was also prohibited by Title VII.[83] In his opinion, Judge Grady relied on scientific information to examine how “sex” could mean more than male or female, including other nuances of sexual identity, such as gender identity.[84] He also rejected the argument that Title VII was not intended to apply to transgender status because “Congress never intended anything one way or the other on the question of whether the term, ‘sex,’ would include transsexuals.”[85] This, in his view, justified a broad understanding of “sex” that included psychological and social understandings.[86] However, Judge Grady’s ruling was reversed on appeal when the Seventh Circuit refused to apply Title VII sex discrimination to Ulane’s case, holding explicitly that: (1) Title VII does not prohibit discrimination against transgender status and (2) Ulane was not a woman under the law.[87]

Although the Supreme Court has never explicitly found that Title VII prohibits transgender discrimination, the Court has held that sex discrimination includes discrimination against gender expression in the form of gender stereotyping.[88] In Price Waterhouse v. Hopkins, the Court used a broad definition of “sex” when it extended Title VII sex discrimination to prohibit the actions of an employer who discriminated against its female employee for dressing and acting overly “masculine.”[89] In that case, Ann Hopkins sued her former employer, the accounting firm Price Waterhouse, after she was denied partnership. Hopkins argued that she faced this adverse employment action because she didn’t match the other partners’ ideas of how a woman should act, speak, and dress.[90] Indeed, representatives of the firm instructed her to “walk more femininely, talk more femininely, dress more femininely, wear make-up, have her hair styled, and wear jewelry.”[91] The Supreme Court held that the firm discriminated against Hopkins on the basis of her sex when it didn’t offer her partnership because she did not conform to stereotypical ideals of femininity.

Importantly, post-Price Waterhouse, it is unclear whether a sex-stereotyping claim would be successful if an employer could show it took an adverse action against a transgender woman employee, not because she did not dress as a stereotypical man, but because she was transgender. Out of this confusion, some believe Price Waterhouse represents a victory for transgender people, while others believe the holding of the case does not go far enough to protect transgender people from discrimination on the basis of their gender identity as it requires the logical leap that discrimination against transgender individuals is inherently a form of gender stereotyping.[92]

B.  Comparison to Transgender Status Protections under Other Federal Laws

Title VII’s anti-discrimination language is most analogous to Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972, which similarly prohibits discrimination on the basis of “sex,” though in schools as opposed to the workplace.[93] The laws not only share similar language, but also similar controversy regarding the breadth of their anti-discrimination coverage. Indeed, a debate currently rages regarding whether transgender students’ bathroom access is protected under Title IX’s sex discrimination prohibition. This question “has roiled the nation, pitting LGBT activists and transgender youth and their parents against those who say privacy and safety are compromised by accommodating transgender youth in school restrooms and locker rooms.”[94]

Taking a side in this debate, numerous state courts have ruled that transgender students have the right to use bathrooms and facilities that match their gender identity. For example, in Doe v. Regional School Unit 26, the Maine Supreme Court ruled that a school discriminated against a female transgender student by denying her access to the women’s restroom because it had effectively treated her differently from other students on the basis of her transgender status.[95] The Colorado Division of Civil Rights came to a similar conclusion in Mathis v. Fountain-Fort Carson School District 8, in which the court ruled that “[b]y not permitting [a student] to use the restroom with which she identifies, as non-transgender students are permitted to do, the [school] treated the [student] less favorably than other students seeking the same service.”[96]

Federal courts have also grappled with whether Title IX gives transgender students the right to access restrooms and locker rooms that correspond with their gender identity. In 2015, the Fourth Circuit became the first federal Court of Appeals to determine whether Title IX’s prohibition on sex discrimination applies to transgender status in G.G. ex rel. Grimm v. Gloucester County School Board.[97] In G.G., a transgender high school student named Gavin Grimm challenged his school board’s policy that prohibited him from using the boys’ restroom on campus. When Grimm refused to use the girls’ restroom, he was told he could use a unisex restroom that he believed singled him out and humiliated him. Grimm’s case was dismissed at the district court level, but on appeal, the Court of Appeals decided in Grimm’s favor with a tie vote.[98] The school board appealed the decision, and in October of 2016, the Supreme Court granted certiorari, agreeing for the first time to take up the question of Title IX’s application to transgender status and discrimination.[99]

But the Supreme Court withdrew cert in March of 2017, after the Trump administration rescinded guidance from the Obama Administration’s Department of Justice that had advised schools that denying transgender students access to the bathroom of their choice violated Title IX.[100] Because the Fourth Circuit had initially deferred to this guidance in deciding for Grimm, this change in policy sharply changed the question before the Court.[101] In light of this, the Court vacated the Fourth Circuit’s decision and sent it back for reconsideration, where it remains as of May 2018. Had the Supreme Court decided this case, it may have shed some light on the proper interpretation of sex discrimination in Title VII. Unfortunately, without the Supreme Court’s final word, the Title IX question remains muddy.

III.  Executive Branch Incoherence on Transgender Protections

A.  Trump Administration Changes Direction

Since taking office in January 2017, President Trump’s administration has clearly departed from the pro-LGBT statements he made during his candidacy. This has caused uncertainty over the administration’s future stance on transgender issues. On the campaign trail, Trump made multiple statements that seemed to evince his commitment to LGBT causes. At a 2016 campaign rally, following the tragic mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, Trump said “[a]s your president, I will do everything in my power to protect our LGBTQ citizens . . . .”[102] At a different event, he held a large pride flag onstage with the words “LGBTs for Trump” written on it.[103]

In April 2017, amidst controversy over North Carolina’s bathroom bill, H.B. 2, then-candidate Trump said in an interview that transgender North Carolinians should be allowed to “use the bathroom they feel is appropriate.”[104] He later doubled down, agreeing that Caitlyn Jenner would be welcome to use any bathroom at Trump Tower if she were to visit.[105] This was in clear contrast to the other Republican presidential candidate front-runner, Ted Cruz, who voiced support for H.B. 2 and bathroom bills in general.[106]

Yet the first year of Trump’s presidency was marked by anti-LGBT policies and stances. As discussed above, in February 2017, the Trump administration rescinded an Obama-era Department of Education guidance that instructed schools to allow transgender students to use bathrooms and locker rooms that match their gender identities.[107] Though some praised the administration for leaving the issue to the states,[108] others argued this move showed “the president’s promise to protect LGBT rights was just empty rhetoric.”[109] Then in July 2017, Trump announced he would reinstate a ban on transgender individuals serving in the military, tweeting that the “military must be focused on decisive and overwhelming . . . victory and cannot be burdened with the tremendous medical costs and disruption that transgender [sic] in the military would entail.”[110] Most recently, in October 2017, Trump’s Justice Department reversed an Obama-era memo that interpreted Title VII to protect transgender employees from discrimination on the basis of their gender identity.[111] In a memo announcing this decision, Attorney General Jeff Sessions argued “Title VII’s prohibition on sex discrimination encompasses discrimination between men and women but does not encompass discrimination based on gender identity per se, including transgender status.”[112] This was not surprising considering Trump’s Justice Department had previously filed an amicus brief in the Second Circuit Court of Appeals, arguing that Title VII should not be interpreted to prohibit discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation.[113]

Curiously, the Trump administration has continued to support one Obama-era protection against transgender discrimination—Executive Order 13672, which forbids federal government contractors from discrimination against employees on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity.[114] In a briefing issued in January of 2017, the White House affirmed that the president intended to continue enforcing this executive order, stating “President Trump continues to be respectful and supportive of LGBTQ rights, just as he was throughout the election.”[115]

Considering these discrepancies, it is unclear what side the Trump administration will take on transgender rights and issues as they emerge, including the issue of transgender bathroom access. However, the decision to walk back from the Obama administration’s interpretation of Title VII strikes a blow to transgender employees who can no longer rely on the guidance as legal support for their right to use gender-affirming bathrooms at work.

B.  Federal Agencies in Conflict

While the position of the Trump administration seems disjointed, the broader stance of the executive branch and the federal agencies within it is a true quagmire. As discussed above, the Department of Justice has interpreted sex discrimination as not encompassing discrimination on the basis of transgender status.[116] In doing so, it has implicitly rejected arguments from transgender employees that being denied access to gender-affirming facilities is unlawful discrimination. But, a separate group of federal agencies has weighed in on the issue in favor of broader transgender rights.[117] These agencies include the EEOC, OSHA, and the Department of Labor’s Office of Federal Contract Compliance Programs (“OFCCP”).[118]

The EEOC is the federal agency tasked with enforcing anti-discrimination law in employment;[119] as such, its position on Title VII is persuasive. Though Title VII does not explicitly mention transgender status or gender identity as a basis for discrimination, the EEOC takes the position that such discrimination is covered by the prohibition on sex discrimination.[120] This, the EEOC argues, is because discriminating against employees for being transgender and thus not conforming to the stereotypical behaviors of their biological sex is a form of gender stereotyping, which the Supreme Court held is unlawful sex discrimination.[121] Applying this position, the EEOC has issued numerous opinions in recent years that protect transgender employees from discrimination on the basis of gender identity or transgender status.[122] For example, the EEOC has found the following can constitute a claim for sex discrimination: 1) failing to hire an employee because she is a transgender woman;[123] 2) firing an employee because he is transitioning or plans to transition;[124] and 3) an employer’s intentional misuse of a transgender employee’s preferred name and pronouns.[125] Numerous federal courts have cited the most prominent of these cases, Macy v. Holder.[126] Macy, decided in 2012, was a landmark decision for the EEOC, wherein the agency held that a transgender plaintiff could pursue a Title VII claim against an employer for sex discrimination.[127]

The EEOC has also addressed the issue of bathroom access. In a Fact Sheet titled “Bathroom/Facility Access and Transgender Employees,” the agency advises that denying employees equal access to bathrooms and other facilities that correspond to their gender identity is a form of sex discrimination in violation of Title VII.[128] The Fact Sheet cites to the 2015 EEOC case Lusardi v. McHugh, in which the EEOC ruled as follows:

1. a federal agency that denied an employee equal access to a common bathroom/facility corresponding to the employee’s gender identity discriminated on the basis of sex;

2. the agency could not condition this right on the employee undergoing or providing proof of surgery or any other medical procedure; and

3. the agency could not avoid the requirement to provide equal access to a common bathroom/facility by restricting a transgender employee to a single-user restroom instead (though the employer can make a single-user restroom available to all employees who might choose to use it).[129]

In Lusardi, a transgender woman named Tamara Lusardi brought a claim against her employer, a department of the U.S. Army, for disparate treatment.[130] Lusardi had been instructed to use a single-user restroom called the “executive restroom” instead of the common women’s restroom on the premises, until such a time as she had undergone “surgery,” the extent of which was unspecified.[131] Lusardi used the common women’s restroom on three occasions, when the executive restroom was unavailable; each time, her superior confronted her and told her she must use the executive restroom until she could provide “proof” that she had undergone surgery.[132] The EEOC held that Lusardi was discriminated against because of her transgender status, which was a violation of Title VII.[133] Thus, if the EEOC’s interpretation of Title VII is to be followed, employer restrictions on transgender employees’ access to facilities matching their gender identity constitute unlawful discrimination in violation of federal law.

Although EEOC decisions are not binding on the courts, the agency’s position is persuasive, so courts often give the EEOC some level of deference on issues of employment law.[134] Therefore, courts may adopt the EEOC in their rulings in cases of gender identity discrimination.[135]

Similarly, OSHA has taken the position that employees should be permitted to use the bathroom that corresponds to their gender identities in the workplace.[136] Under OSHA’s Sanitation standard (1910.141), employers are required to provide bathroom facilities to employees to prevent the “adverse health effects that can result if toilets are not available when employees need them.”[137] These health effects can include urinary tract infections, bladder problems, and bowel problems. To this end, OSHA identifies as a “Core Principle” that “[a]ll employees, including transgender employees, should have access to restrooms that correspond to their gender identity.”[138] OSHA also advises that transgender employees should not be required to use a “segregated facility,” though they may elect to use one provided for them.[139] Although not interpreting Title VII, OSHA’s position exemplifies the public policy reasons for prohibiting employer policies that restrict access to gender-affirming bathrooms—namely, the health and safety of transgender employees.

Finally, the Department of Labor (“DOL”) has adopted prohibitions on employer policies that restrict access to gender-affirming bathrooms.[140] Per the DOL’s OFCCP, government contractors subject to Executive Order 11246 must allow transgender employees to use bathrooms and other facilities that correspond to their gender identities.[141] Like the OSHA regulations, this prohibition does not interpret Title VII; however, it reflects policy considerations in favor of protecting transgender employees from discrimination.

In sum, there are two clear sides to the executive branch when it comes to interpretations of Title VII. Though the Trump Department of Justice recently rejected its predecessor’s expansive reading of the law as it applies to transgender employees, there is growing momentum toward the EEOC’s position. Time will tell if the Trump administration influences the other agencies to its adopt its position, if the opposite will occur, or if the executive branch schism will simply remain.

IV.  Federal Courts’ Approaches to Gender Identity Discrimination and Transgender Bathroom Access

A.  Circuit Split in Title VII Interpretation

In the absence of clear federal law prohibiting discrimination on the basis of transgender status, federal courts have grappled with whether Title VII’s prohibition on sex discrimination covers these actions. U.S. appellate courts are currently split on this issue.[142] Two Circuit Courts of Appeals—the Seventh and Tenth Circuits—have issued decisions holding that sex discrimination under Title VII does not include discrimination on the basis of gender identity or transgender status.[143] Four Circuit Courts of Appeals—the First, Sixth, Ninth, and Eleventh Circuits—have held that Title VII sex discrimination does include discrimination on the basis of gender identity.[144] Finally, the remaining five Circuit Courts of Appeals—the Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Eights Circuits—have not addressed this issue, though lower district courts in these circuits have.[145]

B.  Cases Interpreting Title VII to Protect Transgender Status

Representing one side of the Circuit Split, the First, Sixth, Ninth, and Eleventh Circuits have held that discrimination on the basis transgender status or gender identity is a form of sex discrimination under Title VII.[146] In general, these cases find that discrimination on the basis of transgender status is a form of sex stereotyping discrimination because discriminating employers are mistreating transgender employees for not conforming to established gender norms.[147]

Examples of this line of reasoning can be found in Sixth Circuit precedents. Following Price Waterhouse, two Sixth Circuit cases, Smith v. City of Salem and Barnes v. City of Cincinnati, used the gender stereotyping doctrine to hold that sex discrimination under Title VII includes discrimination based on gender identity.[148] In Smith, the Sixth Circuit applied Price Waterhouse’s prohibition of sex stereotyping discrimination to a transgender plaintiff for the first time.[149] There, a transgender fire department lieutenant who began expressing himself in a more traditionally feminine way was fired for not conforming to sex stereotypes. The court argued there was no reason why a transgender plaintiff could not be protected from discrimination on the basis of sex stereotyping by Title VII, holding “discrimination against a plaintiff who is a transsexual—and therefore fails to act and/or identify with his or her gender—is no different from the discrimination directed against Ann Hopkins in Price Waterhouse, who, in sex-stereotypical terms, did not act like a woman.”[150]  

Similarly, in Barnes, a transgender police officer argued he was demoted for his gender non-conformity, as he presented and lived as a woman while off-duty.[151] Relying on Smith, the court found that (1) Title VII protected Barnes as someone who did not conform to sex stereotypes and (2) he had been demoted for this non-conformity, in violation of federal law.[152]

The Eleventh Circuit also embraced this reasoning in Glenn v. Brumby. In Glenn, a transgender woman brought a claim for unlawful discrimination on the basis of sex in violation of the Equal Protection Clause after she was terminated from her employment with the Georgia General Assembly.[153] Although the claim was brought under 42 U.S.C. § 1983, the court analyzed Title VII precedent, including Price Waterhouse.[154] In doing so, the court concluded that the defendant discriminated against the employee on the basis of her sex by firing her due to her gender transition and concerns that other women would object to her use of the women’s bathroom.[155] The court found there is “congruence” between transgender-based discrimination and sex-stereotyping discrimination because an individual is regarded as transgender “precisely because of the perception that his or her behavior transgresses gender stereotypes.”[156] And because all employees are protected from discrimination based on sex stereotypes, the court held these protections must be available to transgender employees.[157]

It is important to note other courts have approached this question from a textualist perspective, finding that discrimination on the basis of gender identity is sex discrimination precisely because it is related to the “sex” of the targeted employees. The strongest example of this is the EEOC case Macy v. Holder, in which the Commission held that anti-transgender discrimination is per se sex discrimination and does not require evidence of gender stereotyping, which is “simply one means of proving sex discrimination.”[158] Under this line of reasoning, transgender employees can establish they were discriminated against because of sex if, for example, they have evidence that their employer has animus against transgender individuals or is uncomfortable with the employee’s transition.[159] A similar approach was articulated in a District Court for the District of Columbia case, Schroer v. Billington, with an opinion by Judge Robertson, who argued that it ultimately does not “matter[] for purposes of Title VII liability whether the [defendant] withdrew its offer of employment because it perceived [the employee] to be an insufficiently masculine man, an insufficiently feminine woman, or an inherently gender-nonconforming transsexual.”[160] Judge Robertson reasoned that since the employer refused to hire the plaintiff because she planned to change her anatomical sex through sex reassignment surgery as part of her transition to female, the adverse employment action was quite literally “because of sex.”[161] The opinion also analogized to discrimination against religious converts, which is clearly encompassed by religious discrimination, arguing that similar discrimination against those who seek to change their sex must constitute sex discrimination.[162]

C.  Federal Cases Interpreting Title VII to Not Encompass Gender Identity Discrimination

On the other side of the Circuit Split, the Seventh and Tenth Circuit Courts of Appeals have explicitly held that Title VII does not protect transgender employees from discrimination on the basis of their gender identity. Both circuits primarily argue that Congress never intended Title VII to protect transgender status, so broadening Title VII to cover gender identity would be an impermissible overreach of the court’s adjudicatory role.[163]

In the Tenth Circuit, Etsitty v. Utah Transit Authority established the prevailing approach to gender identity discrimination claims under Title VII. In Etsitty, a bus driver was fired from the Utah Transit Authority shortly after she revealed that she was transgender to her employers.[164] Far from denying that she was fired due to being transgender, her employer’s proffered reason for terminating her was that she intended to use women’s public restrooms while wearing her employee uniform, despite still having male genitalia.[165] The court held that “discrimination against a transsexual based on the person’s status as a transsexual is not discrimination because of sex under Title VII,” as “sex” must be taken to mean the “traditional binary conception of sex.”[166] Notably, the court acknowledged that the plain language of the statute, not the legislative intent, should guide its interpretation of Title VII; indeed, it expressed willingness to change its interpretation should “scientific research . . . someday cause a shift in the plain meaning of the term ‘sex’ so that it extends beyond the two starkly defined categories of male and female.”[167]

In the Seventh Circuit, Ulane remains the applicable interpretation of Title VII’s sex discrimination provision. However, the precedential value of Ulane has been questioned for two reasons: First, Ulane predates Price Waterhouse, which not only fundamentally changed the meaning of sex discrimination in Title VII, but also provided a new potential protection to employees discriminated against because of their transgender status.[168] Second, a Seventh Circuit case, Hively v. Ivy Tech Community College of Indiana, called into question the logic of Ulane as it relates to the proper interpretation of sex discrimination and, some have argued, may actually overrule Ulane.[169] In Hively, the court held that discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation is cognizable as sex discrimination under Title VII because the plaintiff, a lesbian woman, would not have been discriminated against for marrying a woman if she were a man, thus, the discrimination occurred “because she is a woman.”[170] The court also stated it was time to “overrule [its] previous cases that have endeavored to find and observe [the] line” between sexual orientation discrimination and sex discrimination.[171] This language could theoretically include Ulane, but the court clearly limited its decision to “the issue put before [it]”—namely sexual orientation—leaving “[a]dditional complications . . . for another day.”[172] Thus, it seems the famous Ulane precedent remains alive and well in the Seventh Circuit. Nevertheless, the Seventh Circuit’s reasoning in Hively should encourage transgender rights activists as it seems to fly directly in the face of Ulane and may generate pro-transgender case law in the near future.

D.  Federal Cases Addressing Bathroom Access

In addition to the overarching Title VII case law on transgender discrimination, some federal courts have explicitly addressed transgender bathroom access. Perhaps the best known of these cases is Roberts v. Clark County School District, in which a Nevada district court explicitly adopted the holdings of the EEOC cases, Macy and Lusardi.[173] In Roberts, the plaintiff informed his employer that he was transgender and would be transitioning from female to male; shortly after, he began using the men’s restroom at his workplace.[174] In response, the school district instructed him to only use the gender neutral restrooms “to avoid any future complaints” and officially banned him from using the men’s or women’s restrooms until he could present documentation of a sex change.[175]

The Nevada District Court granted the plaintiff summary judgment on his sex discrimination claim, finding that the school district “banned Roberts from the women’s bathroom because he no longer behaved like a woman, [which] . . . alone shows that the school district discriminated against Roberts based on his gender and sex stereotypes.”[176] The court also addressed the school district’s claim that even if discrimination on the basis of Robert’s transgender status was prohibited by Title VII, it did not discriminate against him by prohibiting his use of the men’s room because he was biologically female and other similarly-situated females were also prohibited from using the men’s room.[177] The court summarily dismissed this argument because Roberts, unlike other biological females, was not allowed to use the women’s restroom and so was treated differently.[178]

Similarly, in Mickens v. General Electric Co., the Western District of Kentucky denied an employer’s motion to dismiss a transgender employee’s Title VII sex discrimination claim based on allegations that the employee was denied access to a gender-affirming bathroom and was terminated for attendance issues stemming from that denial.[179] In Mickens, the employee alleged that his employer, General Electric (“GE”), instructed him to not use the men’s restroom at the workplace and that he was required to use a restroom further away from his workstation, causing him to return late from breaks, which he was reprimanded for.[180] The court rejected the employer’s argument that discrimination on the basis of transgender status is not actionable under Title VII, citing Price Waterhouse and the prohibition against discrimination due to sex stereotyping.[181] On this basis, it found that the plaintiff met his burden of pleading a sex discrimination claim as he had alleged “continued discrimination and harassment against him . . . because he did not conform to the gender stereotype of what someone who was born female should look and act like.”[182]

The issue has also been addressed from the other side, where a non-transgender employee alleged she had been discriminated against on the basis of sex and religion because her employer permitted a transgender coworker to use the women’s restroom.[183] In Cruzan v. Special School District No. 1, a female teacher filed a suit against her school district for discrimination after the school permitted a transgender employee, Davis, to use the women’s bathroom and she encountered Davis in said bathroom.[184] The court rejected Cruzan’s argument that requiring her to share the women’s restroom with someone who was biologically male constituted sexual harassment.[185] It further held that in order establish a case of discrimination on these grounds, a plaintiff must show that the school enacted a policy directed at the plaintiff and that the plaintiff suffered adverse employment action as a result.[186] Because the school’s policy was not directed at the plaintiff and the plaintiff had “convenient access to numerous restrooms,” including single-stall bathrooms, summary judgment for the defendant was appropriate.[187]

Taken together, this recent case law demonstrates momentum toward broader interpretations of Title VII that protects employees from both discrimination on the basis of transgender status broadly and specific policies preventing transgender employees from using gender-affirming bathrooms and facilities.

V.  Arguments for Competing Interpretations of Title VII as Pertaining to Transgender Bathroom Access

A war currently rages between those who believe Title VII protects transgender employees from restrictive bathroom policies and those who disagree. Both the circuit split that has developed in the courts and the divide in the executive branch exemplify this divide.[188] This Part will canvass the major legal arguments made by both sides of this debate. These arguments run the gambit from the proper interpretation of Title VII, to what constitutes discrimination in the workplace, to policy arguments regarding employee health, comfort, and safety. For clarity, this Note will refer to those who believe Title VII does not provide protection against transgender bathroom restrictions as supporters of the DOJ’s position. It will refer to those who believe Title VII does offer this protection to transgender employees as supporters of the EEOC’s position.

A.  Supporters of The DOJ’s Position on Transgender Bathroom Access

First, the Trump DOJ and supporters of its position argue that Title VII’s prohibition on sex discrimination does not include transgender status; thus, it is inappropriate to read Title VII as offering protection against transgender status discrimination in the terms, conditions, and privileges of employment.[189] This, they argue, is because a plain language reading of the word “sex” does not include notions of gender identity, but refers only to the two traditionally recognized sexes—male and female.[190] Thus, gender identity is a completely separate concept from sex. This side also argues that Title VII’s legislative history shows that when the law was passed, Congress intended to protect women from discrimination in employment and did not intend (let alone envision) the law to apply to transgender status.[191] Proponents of this argument may point to federal laws that explicitly protect both “sex” and “gender identity” discrimination, like the Violence Against Women Act, to argue that if Congress had intended to protect gender identity discrimination, it would have explicitly provided for that protection.[192]

The Seventh Circuit made these arguments in Ulane to hold that Title VII does not protect against employment discrimination on the basis of transgender status. First, majority opinion author Judge Wood argued that although “some may define ‘sex . . . to mean an individual’s ‘sexual identity,’ [the court’s] responsibility is to . . . determine what Congress intended when it decided to outlaw discrimination based on sex.”[193] Finding no evidence Congress intended to protect “sexual identity” discrimination, Judge Wood dismissed that broader interpretation.[194] Second, Judge Wood referenced a “maxim of statutory construction that, unless otherwise defined, words should be given their ordinary, common meaning;” in his view, the ordinary, common meaning of sex discrimination is discriminating against women because they are women and vice versa—nothing more.[195]

Notably, this argument faced pushback from opponents who argue cases like Price Waterhouse broadened the meaning of sex discrimination since Ulane.[196] In response, supporters of the DOJ position argue that Price Waterhouse and subsequent Sixth Circuit cases, Smith and Barnes, are limited to discrimination for non-conformance with gender stereotypes as opposed to transgender status itself.[197] Thus, proponents of this limited view of Title VII discrimination would argue that an employer who fires a transgender employee because of personal distaste for transgender individuals (absent evidence of sex stereotyping) does not violate Title VII.

Second, supporters of the DOJ position argue that even if Title VII protects against transgender discrimination, policies requiring employees to use bathrooms matching their biological sex are not discriminatory because they affect all employees equally and, as such, are facially neutral.[198] Under this argument, policies requiring that employees use the bathroom matching their biological sex do not unfairly single out transgender employees or create disparate treatment in the terms, conditions, and privileges of employment.[199] While the right to a bathroom in the workplace is required, this side views employees’ ability to use the bathroom of their choice as a mere privilege.[200] When the privilege to use the bathroom of the employee’s choosing is withheld from all employees, employers argue these policies are evenly applied and non-discriminatory.[201]

In addition, supporters of the DOJ position argue that employer policies restricting transgender bathroom access serve public policy goals because they protect the majority of employees from feeling uncomfortable and unsafe in workplace bathrooms.[202] They buttress their position by arguing that because transgender people are a very small minority in America,[203] it is unreasonable to subject the interests of the many to the preferences of the very few.[204] They claim that requiring employers to permit transgender employees to use the bathrooms of their choice unfairly burdens the privacy and comfort of the vast majority of employees who are cisgender.[205] This view seeks to protect individuals like the plaintiff in Cruzan, who brought suit against her employer because she felt uncomfortable sharing a restroom with a transgender coworker and believed she had a “right to privacy and modesty which the school district must respect.”[206] Indeed, employers may feel that by allowing transgender employees to use the restroom of their choice, they are appeasing one or a few employees, while upsetting the rest and essentially giving “special treatment” to their transgender employees.[207]

Finally, supporters of the DOJ position may point to safety concerns, arguing permissive bathroom policies are rife for abuse and could allow predators unfettered access to female employees in the women’s bathroom. This argument has primarily come about in the context of bathroom bills like H.B. 2, but it could easily be extended to the workplace. For example, lawmakers who supported North Carolina’s H.B. 2 argued that it ensured women and children were not placed in a “vulnerable situation[] in . . . bathrooms and changing areas,” citing concerns that men might fraudulently pretend to be transgender to commit sexual assaults.[208] Opponents of this view argue these concerns are unfounded and unsupported by statistics.[209] Nonetheless, proponents of these restrictive policies may argue such policies offer protection to female employees and thus should be allowed for policy reasons.

B.  Supporters of the EEOC’s Position on Transgender Bathroom Access

Primarily, supporters of the EEOC’s position argue that Title VII’s use of “sex” should be interpreted to include gender identity for one of two reasons: 1) because Supreme Court precedent broadened the initial meaning of “sex”[210] or 2) because the plain language of “sex” naturally includes gender identity.[211] According to the first argument, Price Waterhouse broadened the meaning of sex discrimination by recognizing discrimination due to gender stereotyping; thus, regardless of the basic meaning of “sex,” sex discrimination under Title VII now necessarily encompasses notions of gender non-conformity.[212] Federal courts, including the Sixth Circuit, have embraced this view as a basis for transgender employees to seek relief from discrimination.[213] And some have pointed to the landmark Supreme Court case, Oncale v. Sundowner Offshore Services, as also broadening the scope of sex discrimination.[214]

In Oncale, the Supreme Court held for the first time that a man who was subjected to same-sex workplace harassment could bring a hostile work environment sex discrimination claim under Title VII.[215] This transgressed the traditional understanding of sex discrimination as discrimination against a woman because she is a woman and vice-versa. Writing for the majority, Justice Scalia argued that the interpretation of Title VII was not restricted to the intentions of Congress in 1964. So, despite conceding that Congress had not intended to attack same-sex harassment, he argued “statutory prohibitions often go beyond the principal evil to cover reasonably comparable evils, and it is ultimately the provisions of our laws rather than the principal concerns of our legislators by which we are governed.”[216] Thus, supporters of the EEOC position argue that taken together, Price Waterhouse and Oncale create an expanded base of coverage for transgender employees under Title VII’s sex discrimination prohibition.[217]

Second, some argue that a plain language interpretation of “sex” simply includes more than just genitalia. The Obama-era Justice Department made this argument in its Complaint against North Carolina in opposition to H.B. 2, arguing that an individual’s “sex” includes “multiple factors, which may not always be in alignment.”[218] These factors include “hormones, external genitalia, internal reproductive organs, chromosomes, and gender identity, which is an individual’s internal sense of being male or female.”[219] Thus, this argument suggests that limiting the interpretation of sex to sexual assignment at birth is overly restrictive and fails to capture the full picture of a person’s sex.[220]

Supporters of the EEOC’s position further argue that policies preventing transgender employers from using restrooms that match their gender identity are discriminatory because they disproportionately burden the transgender population.[221] According to this argument, these policies create an unequal situation in which “employees . . . may access bathrooms and changing facilities that are consistent with their gender identity in their places of work, while transgender employees may not access bathrooms and changing facilities that are consistent with their gender identity . . .[222] In this way, they argue, transgender people are unfairly singled out by restrictive bathroom policies and therefore face disparate treatment. Supporters also argue that these policies contribute to the stigmatization of transgender status and unfairly alienate transgender people from their fellow employees in the workplace.[223] Thus, these restrictive employer policies are discriminatory, in violation of Title VII.

Lastly, supporters of the EEOC position argue that policies restricting transgender bathroom access should be unlawful for policy reasons because they can cause serious harm to transgender employees.[224] According to transgender rights advocates, prohibiting transgender people from using restrooms corresponding with their gender identity may expose them to higher levels of violence.[225] As it is, transgender people are subject to very high levels of violent crime. For example, approximately half of the transgender population will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime, as opposed to onethird of women and onesixth of men.[226] Bathroom access implicates this issue because transgender people may be exposed to even greater risk of harassment or harm if they are forced to use restrooms not matching their gender identity, particularly if they are in the process of outwardly transitioning.[227] In fact, a survey conducted by UCLA’s Williams Institute found that almost 70% of transgender people have experienced a negative interaction in restrooms and that transgender people “who experienced issues [using the restroom] in the workplace felt it contributed to poor job performance, and some even changed jobs or simply quit their jobs to avoid the confrontations.”[228] In response to arguments from the other side, namely that allowing transgender individuals to use the bathroom of their choice threatens women, transgender rights advocates argue that these allegations are not supported by statistical evidence and present less severe threats of harm to cisgender people than to transgender people.[229]

Supporters of the EEOC’s position also argue that forcing transgender employees to use restrooms matching their biological sex can cause serious mental distress and physical health problems.[230] For instance, in its Complaint against North Carolina, the United States argued that H.B. 2’s prohibition on transgender peoples use of gender-corresponding restrooms caused them to suffer, “emotional harm, mental anguish, distress, humiliation, and indignity . . . .[231] This is in part because transgender people do not identify with the gender they were assigned at birth and may therefore be disaffirmed in their identity when their workplaces and coworkers categorize them as their biological sex.[232] In addition, policies restricting transgender bathroom access can cause physical health issues for transgender people, who may avoid workplace restrooms based upon fear of outing themselves as transgender, being confronted, or being harassed. One study found that 54% of transgender people had suffered “physical complications like dehydration, urinary tract infections, kidney infections, and other kidney problems simply because of the tactics they used to avoid going to the restroom during the day.”[233] Thus, supporters argue these mental and physical health issues unfairly burden transgender employees, and Title VII should be interpreted to protect against this form of discrimination.

VI.  Analysis

Accounting for the EEOC’s and DOJ’s competing interpretations of “sex,” the possible disparate treatment of transgender people in the workplace due to restrictive bathroom policies, and policy concerns, Title VII should be interpreted to protect against discrimination on the basis of transgender status. Moreover, denying transgender employees access to gender-affirming restrooms and other single-sex facilities should be regarded as a form of sex discrimination in violation of Title VII.

A.  Interpretation of “Sex” in Title VII

Title VII’s prohibition of sex discrimination should be interpreted to include gender identity discrimination for three reasons. First, Supreme Court precedents support a broad reading of sex discrimination. Second, an originalist approach to statutory interpretation is probably inappropriate in this case and thus does not preclude defining “sex” as encompassing gender identity. Third, “sex” is best understood as including transgender status given the spirit and purpose of Title VII.

First, the Supreme Court precedents, Price Waterhouse and Oncale, support an expansive interpretation of sex discrimination that encompasses notions of gender identity and expression, under which transgender individuals are protected. The Seventh Circuit’s argument in Ulane, that sex discrimination includes only discrimination against women for being women and men for being men, can no longer be the prevailing interpretation since the Court decided Price Waterhouse and Oncale. Given that discrimination against transgender individuals is typically based on the idea these individuals do not think or act like members of their biological sex should, transgender discrimination clearly finds a home under the Price Waterhouse sexstereotyping doctrine. Indeed, discrimination against individuals who are gender non-conforming is precisely the type of “reasonably comparable evil” Title VII prohibits, according to Justice Scalia’s Oncale opinion.

Second, the EEOC’s interpretation is persuasive because it is not contrary to lawmakers’ express intent. The intent of the original legislators who added sex discrimination to Title VII in 1964 is muddy; some argue the provision was only added as a last-minute poison pill to prevent the law’s passage,[234] while others dispute this claim, arguing the senator that originated the sex discrimination provision was sympathetic to feminist activists and wanted to ensure black women did not “enjoy more protection in the workplace—by virtue of their race—than white woman.”[235] Regardless, the interpretation of sex discrimination was unclear from its inception and has been a moving target ever since.[236] Legal scholars have long-criticized intentionalism because it can be difficult to discern the legislator’s intent and thus is a poor tool for interpreting law. As for Title VII, legislative intent may be even harder to pinpoint because it is not clear why sex discrimination was included. For these reasons, the interpretation of Title VII’s sex discrimination provision should not turn on legislative intent.

Third, Title VII should be read to protect employees from gender identity discrimination because this interpretation best reflects the broad goals of the remedial law. Title VII was designed to prevent employers from treating prospective or current employees unequally based on non-qualitative features like race, religion, national origin, or sex. Just as the law would protect a female employee who is not promoted because she is a woman (without regard for her skills or job performance), it should similarly protect transgender employees who are not given the same privileges and rights in employment as their cisgender peers merely because of their gender identity. By adopting a broad interpretation of “sex” to include more than the male-female gender binary, Title VII can better protect vulnerable populations from unfair employment actions, which is within the spirit, if not the letter, of Title VII. After all, even the Seventh Circuit, in issuing perhaps the strongest rejection of transgender rights under Title VII that remains in effect, acknowledged the well-recognized “maxim that remedial statutes [like Title VII] should be liberally construed.”[237] For these reasons, Title VII should be interpreted to prohibit discrimination on the basis of gender identity.

B.  Equal Bathroom Access and Discrimination

In addition, restricting bathroom access for transgender employees should be regarded as facial discrimination in violation of Title VII, even where alternatives like gender-neutral or private bathrooms are provided. Although employer policies requiring all employees to use bathrooms corresponding to their biological sex are facially neutral, this alone does not end the inquiry with respect to underlying discrimination. Upon a closer look, such policies are unquestionably discriminatory because they disproportionately impact transgender employees. While being legally required to use the bathroom matching one’s “official” sex is unlikely to ever inconvenience a cisgender person, such policies substantially impact the day-to-day life and working conditions of a transgender person.[238] Moreover, the employers intent in adopting these policies is to prevent transgender employees from using restrooms matching their gender identity, not cisgender employees. This alone should expose the discriminatory nature of facially neutral policies restricting bathroom access as they are designed to single out transgender employees and have clear discriminatory intent.[239]

It is important to note that policies requiring transgender employees to use private or gender-neutral facilities are often an improvement on policies requiring transgender employees to use gender-disaffirming bathrooms. But such policies are actually more discriminatory on their face because they clearly segregate the workplace by providing transgender individuals with different employment privileges than their peers. Even assuming the bathrooms provided are identical, this implicates the issue of “separate but equal,and, as Brown v. Board of Education made clear, such separate facilities are not equal.[240] For these reasons, policies restricting transgender bathroom access on the basis of gender identity are probably discriminatory under Title VII.

C.  Policy Implications of Bathroom Access

Finally, policy reasons, including the safety and health of transgender individuals, weigh in favor of finding bathroom bills and similar policies impermissible under Title VII. Transgender individuals are disproportionately vulnerable to sexual and physical violence. Requiring them to use restrooms not matching their gender identity may expose them to even greater levels of assault and violence by outing them as “other” in facilities meant to ensure privacy. Although there are concerns about the health and safety of employees if violent predators manage to abuse permissive bathroom access policies, these concerns are not based on evidence. This is in sharp contrast to the abundance of evidence showing that transgender individuals are a particularly vulnerable minority group. For these reasons, public policy warrants protecting transgender individuals’ access to gender-affirming workplace bathrooms.

Public policy also supports greater transgender bathroom access for health reasons. Many transgender individuals report experiencing serious health issues, including kidney stones and bladder infections, as a result of avoiding public bathrooms and the conflicts that arise in them. Moreover, forcing transgender individuals to use restrooms that do not match their gender identity can be emotionally damaging, psychologically disaffirming, and otherwise harmful to a group already subject to higher than average levels of depression and suicide.[241]

This Note does not ignore the concerns of some individuals who are made uncomfortable by the notion of sharing single-sex facilities with transgender coworkers, whom they perceive to be from the opposite sex. However, the discomfort of these employees does not justify imposing serious and life-threatening harms on transgender employees through restrictive bathroom policies. It also does not justify the exclusion of transgender individuals as “other” that results when transgender employees are forced to use gender-neutral bathrooms. This is especially true given that people share bathrooms with transgender people every day without ever knowing it.[242] Notably, individuals who did not want to share spaces with members of a different race during the Civil Rights movement made similar arguments.[243] As the argument failed then, so too should it fail today.

Ultimately, the greater severity of physical and mental harm to transgender employees outweighs the potential for harm to their coworkers. For these policy reasons, Title VII should be read to protect transgender employees from discrimination.

Conclusion

Transgender bathroom access is a morass. With sharp divisions among the courts, the states, and even the executive branch of the federal government, it is unclear when and how this issue will be resolved. This is punctuated by the fact that the Supreme Court will not hear a single case involving transgender rights this term. Yet there is a path forward, and it may exist in the building momentum toward recognizing a protection for transgender employees under Title VIIs sex discrimination prohibition. Supreme Court precedent that takes an expansive view of sex discrimination and societys growing understanding of gender identity and expression provides good reason to read Title VII to protect transgender employees. Such a reading of Title VII is also compelling because it protects one of the Unites States most vulnerable populations from further harm. It is this approach that best meets the remedial goals of Title VII, providing the most equality, justice, liberty, and protection for minorities. As such, it is the approach the Supreme Court should take when it hears this issue in the future.

 


[*] *. Executive Senior Editor, Southern California Law Review, Volume 91; J.D. 2018, University of Southern California Gould School of Law; B.A. Political Science 2014, University of California, Los Angeles. I would like to thank Professor Ronald Garet and Professor David B. Cruz for their assistance and valuable insights on this project. I would also like to thank Kathy Bader and Seth Jones for their support. Finally, I would like to thank the staff and editors of the Southern California Law Review for their excellent work.

 [1]. Michael Hughes, Transgender Lives: Your Stories, N.Y. Times, https://nyti.ms/2FdI6DG (last visited May 9, 2018).

 [2]. Flores et al., Williams Institute, How Many Adults Identify as Transgender in the United States? 23 (2016), http://williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/wp-content/uploads/How-Many-Adults-Identify-as-Transgender-in-the-United-States.pdf.

 [3]. Restroom Access for Transgender Employees, Human Rights Campaign, http://www.hrc.org/resources/restroom-access-for-transgender-employees (last visited May 9, 2018).

 [4]. Mitch Kellaway, Trans Folks Respond to ‘Bathroom Bills’ With #WeJustNeedtoPee Selfies, Advocate (Mar. 14, 2015), https://www.advocate.com/politics/transgender/2015/03/14/trans-folks-respond-bathroom-bills-wejustneedtopee-selfies.

 [5]. German Lopez, Tennessee’s Anti-Transgender Bathroom Bill, Explained, Vox (Apr. 7, 2016, 9:10 AM), https://www.vox.com/2016/4/7/11381400/tennessee-transgender-bathroom-bill.

 [6]. Id.

 [7]. See Public Facilities Privacy & Security Act, ch. 3, 2016 N.C. Sess. Laws 12 (codified as amended at N.C. Gen Stat. § 143-760 (2016)), repealed by ch.4, 2017 N.C. Sess. Laws 1 [hereinafter H.B. 2]; Joellen Kralik, “Bathroom Bill” Legislative Tracking, National Conference of State Legislators (July 28, 2017), http://www.ncsl.org/research/education/-bathroom-bill-legislative-tracking635951130.aspx.

 [8]. Jason Hanna, Madison Park & Elliot C. McLaughlin, North Carolina Repeals “Bathroom Bill,” CNN Politics, https://www.cnn.com/2017/03/30/politics/north-carolina-hb2-agreement/index
.html (last updated Mar. 30, 2017, 9:36 PM).

 [9]. Notably, in North Carolina, an individual may only change the sex marker on their birth certificate if they have undergone full sexual reassignment surgery. See Changing Birth Certificate Sex Designations: State-By-State Guidelines, Lambda Legal, https://www.lambdalegal.org/know-your-rights/article/trans-changing-birth-certificate-sex-designations (last visited May 9, 2018).

 [10]. David A. Graham, North Carolina Overturns LGBT-Discrimination Bans, Atlantic (Mar. 24, 2016), https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/03/north-carolina-lgbt-discrimination-transgender-bathrooms/475125.

 [11]. See, e.g., Michael Gordon et al., Understanding HB2: North Carolina’s Newest Law Solidifies State’s Role in Defining Discrimination, Charlotte Observer (March 26, 2016, 11:00AM), http://www.charlotteobserver.com/news/politics-government/article68401147.html; Avianne Tan, North Carolina’s Controversial “Anti-LGBT” Bill Explained, ABC News (Mar. 24, 2016, 6:51 PM), http://abcnews.go.com/US/north-carolinas-controversial-anti-lgbt-bill-explained/story?id=37898153; Judy Woodruff & John Yang, How North Carolina Signed a Bill Dubbed the Most Anti-LGBT Law in the U.S., PBS (Mar. 24, 2016, 8:07 PM), https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/how-north-carolina-signed-a-bill-dubbed-most-anti-lgbt-law-in-the-u-s.

 [12]. Craig Jarvis et al., McCrory, NC Lawmakers Sue Justice Department Over HB2; Feds Counter With Lawsuit, Charlotte Observer (May 9, 2016, 10:35 AM) http://www.charlotteobserver.com/news/politics-government/article76502777.html; McCrory Drops House Bill 2 Lawsuit, Cites Costs, Assoc. Press (Sept. 18, 2016), http://abc11.com/politics/mccrory-drops-house-bill-2-lawsuit-cites-costs/1516428; Press Release, U.S. Dep’t of Justice, Justice Department Files Complaint Against the State of North Carolina to Stop Discrimination Against Transgender Individuals (May 9, 2016), https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-files-complaint-against-state-north-carolina-stop-discrimination-against.

 [13]. Tom Jensen, HB 2 Deeply Unpopular in North Carolina; Voters Think It’s Hurting State, Pub. Pol’y Polling (Apr. 25, 2016), http://www.publicpolicypolling.com/main/2016/04/hb-2-deeply-unpopular-in-north-carolina-voters-think-its-hurting-state.html.

 [14]. See ch.4, 2017 N.C. Sess. Laws 1 (codified as amended at N.C. Gen Stat. § 143-760 (2017)); Allen Smith, N.C. Repeals “Bathroom Bill,” Pre-Empts Local Employment Laws, Soc’y for Human Resource Mgmt. (Mar. 31, 2017), https://www.shrm.org/resourcesandtools/legal-and-compliance/state-and-local-updates/pages/h.b.-2-repeal.aspx.

 [15]. These states are: Alabama, Arkansas, Illinois, Kansas, Kentucky, Minnesota, Missouri, Montana, New York, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia, Washington, and Wyoming. Joellen Kralik, “Bathroom Bill” Legislative Tracking, Nat’l Conf. of State Legislators (July 28, 2017), http://www.ncsl.org/research/education/-bathroom-bill-legislative-tracking635951130
.aspx.

 [16]. Id.

 [17]. Laws, Regulations & Guidance: Title VII and the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Equal Emp. Opportunity Commission, https://www.eeoc.gov/laws/statutes/titlevii.cfm (last visited May 9, 2018) [hereinafter EEOC].

 [18]. Office for Civil Rights, U.S. Dep’t of Educ., Dear Colleague Letter: Transgender Students (May 13, 2016), http://www2.ed.gov/about/offices/list/ocr/letters/colleague-201605-title-ix-transgender.pdf; Title VII and the Civil Rights Act, supra note 17; Bathroom/Facility Access and Transgender Employees, Equal Emp. Opportunity Commission, https://www.eeoc.gov/eeoc
/publications/fs-bathroom-access-transgender.cfm (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [19]. Chris Geidner, Justice Department Will Now Support Transgender Discrimination Claims in Litigation, BuzzFeed News (Dec. 18, 2014, 11:06 AM), https://www.buzzfeed.com/chrisgeidner
/justice-department-announces-reversal-on-litigating-transgen?utm_term=.vhkNLmjp3#.sjyP4705N.

 [20]. William Duncan, How the Feds Began Rewriting Title IX To Push Trans Policies, Federalist (May 25, 2016), http://thefederalist.com/2016/05/25/how-the-feds-began-rewriting-title-ix-to-push-trans-policies/; Eugene Volokh, Successful Religious Freedom Defense in Title VII Case Brought by Transgender Employee, Wash. Post: Volokh Conspiracy (Aug. 19, 2016), https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/volokh-conspiracy/wp/2016/08/19/successful-religious-freedom-defense-in-title-vii-case-brought-by-transgender-employee.

 [21]. Kevin Johnson, Jeff Sessions: Transgender People Not Protected from Workplace Discrimination, USA Today (Oct. 5, 2017, 4:45 PM), https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics
/2017/10/05/jeff-sessions-transgender-people-not-protected-workplace-discrimination/735709001.

 [22]. Compare Jae Alexis Lee, What if a Pervert Pretending to be Transgender Entered the Opposite Sex’s Bathroom?, Huffington Post (Oct. 28, 2017), http://www.huffingtonpost.com
/quora/what-if-a-pervert-pretend_b_12677938.html, with Nicole Russell, Don’t Put My Five-Year-Old Girl in a Bathroom with a Transgender Boy, Federalist (July 24, 2015), http://thefederalist.com
/2015/07/24/transgender-bathroom-my-daughter.

 [23]. Katy Steinmetz, Why LGBT Advocates Say Bathroom “Predators” Argument Is a Red Herring, Time (May 2, 2016), http://time.com/4314896/transgender-bathroom-bill-male-predators-argument.

 [24]. See, e.g., Jeff Brady, When a Transgender Person Uses a Public Bathroom, Who Is at Risk?, NPR (May 15, 2016, 7:48 AM), http://www.npr.org/2016/05/15/477954537/when-a-transgender-person-uses-a-public-bathroom-who-is-at-risk.

 [25]. See Transgender FAQ, GLAAD, http://www.glaad.org/transgender/transfaq (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [26]. Id.

 [27]. Id.

 [28]. Id.

 [29]. Id.

 [30]. Id.

 [31]. Id.

 [32]. Id.

 [33]. See American Psychiatric Ass’n, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders 451 (5th ed. 2013). See also Wynne Parry, Gender Dysphoria: DSM-5 Reflects Shift in Perspective on Gender Identity, Huffington Post, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/04
/gender-dysphoria-dsm-5_n_3385287.html (last updated Aug. 4, 2013).

 [34]. Ranna Parekh, What is Gender Dysphoria?: Treatment, Am. Psychiatric Ass’n, https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/gender-dysphoria/what-is-gender-dysphoria (last updated Feb. 2016).

 [35]. Id.

 [36]. Fenway Health, Glossary of Gender & Transgender Terms 15 (2010), http://fenwayhealth.org/documents/the-fenway-institute/handouts/Handout_7-C_Glossary_of_Gender
_and_Transgender_Terms__fi.pdf.

 [37]. See Avery Martens, Commentary, Transgender People Have Always Existed, ACLU Ohio (June 10, 2016), http://www.acluohio.org/archives/blog-posts/transgender-people-have-always-existed; A Map of Gender-Diverse Cultures, PBS (Aug. 11, 2015), http://www.pbs.org/independentlens
/content/two-spirits_map-html.

 [38]. John Leland, A Spirit of Belonging, Inside and Out, N.Y. Times (Oct. 8, 2006), http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/08/fashion/08SPIRIT.html.

 [39]. See generally Harlan Pruden & Se-ah-dom Edmo, Two-Spirit People: Sex, Gender & Sexuality in Historic and Contemporary Native America (2014), http://www.ncai.org/policy-research-center/initiatives/Pruden-Edmo_TwoSpiritPeople.pdf.

 [40]. Trista Wilson, Comment, Changed Embraces, Changes Embraced? Renouncing the Heterosexist Majority in Favor of a Return to Traditional Two-Spirit Culture, 36 Am. Indian L. Rev. 161, 169 (2011).

 [41]. Steve Hendrix, A History Lesson for Trump: Transgender Soldiers Served in the Civil War, Wash. Post (Aug. 25, 2017), https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/retropolis/wp/2017/07/26/a-history-lesson-for-trump-transgender-soldiers-served-in-the-civil-war/?utm_term=.79df6a8d4c44.

 [42]. Id.

 [43]. John T. McQuiston, Christine Jorgensen, 62, Is Dead; Was First to Have a Sex Change, N.Y. Times (May 4, 1989), http://www.nytimes.com/1989/05/04/obituaries/christine-jorgensen-62-is-dead-was-first-to-have-a-sex-change.html.

 [44]. See, e.g., Erica Keppler, Chaz Bono’s Place in History, Huffington Post, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/erica-keppler/chaz-bonos-place-in-histo_b_981508.html (last updated Feb. 2, 2016); Lana Wachowski Received the HRC Visibility Award, Human Rights Campaign (Oct. 25, 2012), https://www.hrc.org/videos/videos-lana-wachowski-receives-the-hrc-visibility-award.

 [45]. Aleksandra Gjorgievska & Lily Rothman, Laverne Cox Is the First Transgender Person Nominated for an Emmy—She Explains Why That Matters, TIME (July 10, 2014, 4:00 PM), http://time.com/2973497/laverne-cox-emmy.

 [46]. Katy Steinmetz, Laverne Cox Talks to TIME About the Transgender Movement, TIME (May 29, 2014), http://time.com/132769/transgender-orange-is-the-new-black-laverne-cox-interview.

 [47]. Daniel D’Addario, Bruce Jenner Comes Out as Transgender: “For All Intents and Purposes, I Am a Woman”, TIME (Apr. 24, 2015, 10:53 PM), http://time.com/3835205/bruce-jenner-diane-sawyer-transgender.

 [48]. Arash Markazi, How Bruce Jenner Became an Olympic Icon Exactly 39 Years Ago, ESPN (July 30, 2015), http://www.espn.com/olympics/story/_/id/13346959/bruce-jenner-became-olympic-icon-exactly-39-years-ago.

 [49]. Susan Milligan, Danica Roem Becomes First Transgender Woman to Win State Seat, U.S. News (Nov. 7, 2017, 9:53 PM), https://www.usnews.com/news/politics/articles/2017-11-07/danica-roem-becomes-first-transgender-woman-to-win-state-seat-in-virginia.

 [50]. See U.S. Const. amend. XIV.

 [51]. Compare Adkins v. City of New York, 143 F. Supp. 3d 134, 139 (S.D.N.Y. 2015), with Glenn v. Brumby, 663 F.3d 1312, 1319 (11th Cir. 2011).

 [52]. About ENDA, Americans for Workplace Opportunity, http://web.archive.org
/web/20160318164443/http://workplaceopportunity.org/about-enda (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [53]. See Shaan Rizvi, The Latest LGBT Legal Updates for the Workplace, Employment Practices Solutions (Feb. 28, 2017), http://www.epspros.com/news-resources/whitepapers/2017/the-latest-lgbt-legal-update-for-the-workplace%20.html.

 [54]. Cities and Counties with Non-Discrimination Ordinances that Include Gender Identity, Human Rights Campaign, https://www.hrc.org/resources/cities-and-counties-with-non-discrimination
-ordinances-that-include-gender (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [55]. Id.

 [56]. Aaron Lacey & Jesse Doggendorf, A Look at the Legal Issues in the Transgender Bathrooms Debate, Thompson Coburn LLP (Aug. 5, 2016), http://www.thompsoncoburn.com/insights/blogs
/regucation/post/2016-08-05/a-look-at-the-legal-issues-in-the-transgender-bathrooms-debate.

 [57]. See Angela Dallara, Groundbreaking Report Reflects Persistent Discrimination Against Transgender Community, GLAAD (Feb. 4, 2011), https://www.glaad.org/2011/02/04/groundbreaking-report-reflects-persistent-discrimination-against-transgender-community. See generally Jaime M. Grant et al., Injustice at Every Turn: A Report of the National Transgender Discrimination Survey (2011), https://transequality.org/sites/default/files/docs/resources/NTDS
_Report.pdf.

 [58]. Katy Steinmetz, Why Transgender People Are Being Murdered at a Historic Rate, TIME (Aug. 17, 2015), http://time.com/3999348/transgender-murders-2015.

 [59]. Grant et al., supra note 57.

 [60]. National Equality Map, Transgender L. Ctr., https://transgenderlawcenter.org
/equalitymap (last updated Feb. 7, 2018).

 [61]. Id.

 [62]. Id.

 [63]. Id.

 [64]. “Bathroom Bill” Legislative Tracking, supra note 7.

 [65]. Id.

 [66]. Jeremy B. White, All-Gender Bathroom Bill Passes California Assembly, Sac. Bee (May 9, 2016, 2:25 PM), http://www.sacbee.com/news/politics-government/capitol-alert/article76595197.html.

 [67]. Kwegyirba Croffie, Vermont Passes Gender-Neutral Bathroom Bill, CNN (May 13, 2018, 8:50 PM), https://www.cnn.com/2018/05/13/us/vermont-gender-neutral-restroom-bill/index.html.

 [68]. See, e.g., NC Gov Defends “Bathroom Bill,” Says Law Is About Privacy, Not Discrimination, Fox News (Apr. 29, 2016), http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2016/04/29/nc-gov-defends-bathroom-bill-says-law-is-about-privacy-not-discrimination.html.

 [69]. Alia E. Dastagir, The Imaginary Predator in America’s Transgender Bathroom War, USA Today (Apr. 29, 2016, 5:32 PM), http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2016/04/28
/transgenderbathroom-bills-discrimination/32594395.

 [70]. See, e.g., Interpretation of 20 C.F.R. 1910.141(c)(1)(i): Toilet Facilities, Occupational Safety and Health Admin. (Apr. 4, 1998), https://www.osha.gov/pls/oshaweb/owadisp.show_document?p
_table=INTERPRETATIONS&p_id=22932; Occupational Safety and Health Admin., Best Practices: A Guide to Restroom Access for Transgender Workers (2015) https://www.osha.gov/Publications/OSHA3795.pdf. 

 [71]. Best Practices, supra note 70.

 [72]. Id.

 [73]. EEOC, supra note 17.

 [74]. Lusardi v. Dep’t of the Army, EEOC Appeal No. 0120133395, 2015 WL 1607756, at *6 (Apr. 1, 2015).

 [75]. See generally Price Waterhouse v. Hopkins, 490 U.S. 228 (1989); Ulane v. E. Airlines Inc., 742 F.2d 1081 (7th Cir. 1984); Smith v. City of Salem, 378 F.3d 566 (6th Cir. 2004); Barnes v. City of Cincinnati, 401 F.3d 729 (6th Cir. 2005) (collecting cases).

 [76]. See, e.g., Gillian Thomas, Because of Sex 1–7 (2016); Scott Highhouse, The History Corner: Was the Addition of Sex to Title VII a Joke? Two Viewpoints, Soc’y for Indust. & Org. Psych., http://www.siop.org/tip/jan11/12highhouse.aspx (last visited May 15, 2018); Mark Joseph Stern, How a 1964 Civil Rights Law Makes North Carolina’s Bathroom Bill Illegal, Slate (May 18, 2016, 10:14 AM), http://www.slate.com/blogs/outward/2016/05/18/sex_discrimination_is_trans
_discrimination_gilliam_thomas_explains.html.

 [77]. See Thomas, supra note 76, at 3.

 [78]. See Jo Freeman, How “Sex” Got into Title VII: Persistent Opportunism As a Maker of Public Policy, 9 Law & Ineq. 163, 163–75 (1991).

 [79]. Id.

 [80]. Id.

 [81]. Ulane v. E. Airlines, Inc., 742 F.2d 1081, 1082 (7th Cir. 1984).

 [82]. Id.

 [83]. Id.

 [84]. Ulane v. E. Airlines, Inc., 581 F. Supp. 821, 823, 825 (N.D. Ill. 1983), rev’d, 742 F.2d 1081 (7th Cir. 1984), cert. denied, 471 U.S. 1017 (1985) (“After listening to the evidence in this case, it is clear to me that there is no settled definition in the medical community as to what we mean by sex.”).

 [85]. Id. at 823–25.

 [86]. See id.

 [87]. See Ulane, 742 F.2d at 1084–87.

 [88]. Price Waterhouse v. Hopkins, 490 U.S. 228, 250 (1989).

 [89]. Id. at 228–36.

 [90]. Id. at 235.

 [91]. Id.

 [92]. Thomas Bourgeois, Title VII Protections for Transgender and Transsexual Employees, La. L. Rev. (Oct. 28, 2015), https://lawreview.law.lsu.edu/2015/10/28/title-vii-protections-for-transgender-and-transsexual-employees.

 [93]. Title IX and Sex Discrimination, Office for Civil Rights, https://www2.ed.gov/about
/offices/list/ocr/docs/tix_dis.html (last updated Apr. 2015).

 [94]. Robert Barnes, Supreme Court Sends Virginia Transgender Case Back to Lower Court, Wash. Post (Mar. 6, 2017), http://wapo.st/2mvVo80?tid=ss_mail&utm_term=.38cd70402500.

 [95]. See Doe v. Reg’l Sch. Unit 26, 86 A.3d 600, 607 (2014).

 [96]. See Mathis v. Fountain-Fort Carson Sch. Dist. No. 8, Charge No. P20130034X, (Colo. Civ. Rights Div. 2013), https://archive.org/stream/716966-pdf-of-coy-mathis-ruling/716966-pdf-of-coy-mathis-ruling_djvu.txt.

 [97]. G.G. ex rel. Grimm v. Gloucester Cty. Sch. Bd., 822 F.3d 709, 718 (4th Cir. 2016).

 [98]. G.G. v. Gloucester County School Board, Am. Civil Liberties Union, https://www.aclu.org/cases/gg-v-gloucester-county-school-board (last updated Mar. 6, 2017) [hereinafter ACLU].

 [99]. See Gloucester County School Board v. G.G., SCOTUSBlog, http://www.scotusblog.com
/case-files/cases/gloucester-county-school-board-v-g-g (last updated Apr. 7, 2017).

 [100]. ACLU, supra note 98.

 [101]. Barnes, supra note 94.

 [102]. German Lopez, Watch Donald Trump Reach Out to “L, G, B, T . . . Q” Americans, Vox (July 21, 2016, 11:34 PM), https://www.vox.com/2016/7/21/12254616/trump-acceptance-speech-lgbtq-rnc.

 [103]. Michelangelo Signorile, Why Donald Trump Unfurled an Upside Down Rainbow Flag Onstage, Huffington Post (November 1, 2016, 11:19 AM), https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry
/why-donald-trump-unfurled-an-upside-down-rainbow-flag-onstage_us_58189a60e4b0990edc336c51.

 [104]. Karma Allen, Trump’s Reversal of Transgender Bathroom Guidance Contradicts His Past Claims of Support, ABC News (Feb. 23, 2017, 2:16 AM), http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/trumps-reversal-transgender-bathroom-guidance-contradicts-past-claims/story?id=45678113.

 [105]. Id.

 [106]. Deena Zaru, Caitlyn Jenner Takes Trump Up on the Offer, CNN Pol. (Aug. 16, 2017, 8:59 PM), http://www.cnn.com/2016/04/28/politics/caitlyn-jenner-bathroom-trump-tower-donald-trump
/index.html.

 [107]. Trump Rolls Back Transgender Bathroom Guidelines for Schools, Fortune (Feb. 23, 2017), http://fortune.com/2017/02/22/trump-lgbt-transgender-bathroom-guidelines.

 [108]. Id.

 [109]. How Liberals and Conservatives Are Reacting to Trump’s Transgender Bathroom Decision, Fortune (Feb. 23, 2017), http://fortune.com/2017/02/22/trump-transgender-school-bathroom-reaction.

 [110]. Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump), Twitter (July 26, 2017, 5:55 AM), https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/890193981585444864?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw; Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump), Twitter (July 26, 2017, 6:04 AM), https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump
/status/890196164313833472?refsrc=twsrc%5Etfw; Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump), Twitter (July 26, 2017, 6:08 AM), https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/890197095151546369?ref
_src=twsrc%5Etfw. See also Zeke J. Miller, President Trump Has Taken a Key Step to Implement His Transgender Military Ban, TIME (Aug. 25, 2017), http://time.com/4916871/donald-trump-transgender-military-ban.

 [111]. German Lopez, Trump’s Justice Department Just Rescinded a Memo Protecting Transgender Workers, Vox (Oct. 5, 2017, 11:08 AM), https://www.vox.com/identities/2017/10/5/16429800/trump-sessions-transgender-workers.

 [112]. Id.

 [113]. German Lopez, It’s Not Only the Military. Trump’s Administration Just Took Another Big Anti-LGBTQ Step., Vox (July 27, 2017, 9:50 AM), https://www.vox.com/identities/2017/7/27
/16049306/trump-sessions-justice-department-lgbtq.

 [114]. Press Release, U.S. White House, President Donald J. Trump Will Continue to Enforce Executive Order Protecting the Rights of the LGBTQ Community in the Workplace (Jan. 31, 2017), https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefings-statements/president-donald-j-trump-will-continue-enforce-executive-order-protecting-rights-lgbtq-community-workplace.

 [115]. Id.

 [116]. See Lopez, supra note 1111.

 [117]. See Michelle E. Phillips, EEOC Stresses Title VII Bars Discrimination Against Transgender Workers, Including Regarding Bathroom Access, Jackson Lewis (May 4, 2016), https://www.jacksonlewis.com/publication/eeoc-stresses-title-vii-bars-discrimination-against-transgender-workers-including-regarding-bathroom-access.

 [118]. Id.

 [119]. About EEOC, Equal Employment Opportunity Comm’n, https://www.eeoc.gov/eeoc (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [120]. What You Should Know About EEOC and the Enforcement Protections for LGBT Workers, Equal Employment Opportunity Comm’n, https://www.eeoc.gov/eeoc/newsroom/wysk
/enforcement_protections_lgbt_workers.cfm (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [121]. Id.

 [122]. Id.

 [123]. Id. See generally Macy v. Holder, EEOC Appeal No. 0120120821, 2012 WL 1435995 (Apr. 20, 2012) (discussing an EEOC decision that held that failing to hire a transgender woman can be sex discrimination).

 [124]. See Press Release, EEOC, Deluxe Financial to Settle Sex Discrimination Suit on Behalf of Transgender Employee (Jan. 21, 2016), https://www.eeoc.gov/decisions/0120133395.txt.

 [125]. Lusardi v. McHugh, EEOC Appeal No. 0120133395, 2015 WL 1607756, at *1 (Apr. 1, 2015).

 [126]. See, e.g., Fowlkes v. Ironworkers Local 40, 790 F.3d 378, 386 (2d Cir. 2015); Brown v. Subway Sandwich Shop of Laurel, Inc., No. 2:15-CV-77-KS-MTP, 2016 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 76526, at *5–6 (S.D. Miss. 2016); Doe v. Arizona, No. CV-15-02399-PHX-DGC, 2016 WL 1089743, at *2 (D. Ariz. 2016); Roberts v. Clark Cty. Sch. Dist., 215 F. Supp. 3d 1001, 1014 n.104 (D. Nev. 2016); Martin v. EEOC, 19 F. Supp. 3d 291, 297 (D.D.C. 2014).

 [127]. Macy v. Holder, EEOC Appeal No. 0120120821, 2012 WL 1435995, at *1 (Apr. 20, 2012).

 [128]. Fact Sheet: Bathroom/Facility Access and Transgender Employees, Equal Employment Opportunity Comm’n, https://www.eeoc.gov/eeoc/publications/fs-bathroom-access-transgender.cfm (last viewed May 15, 2018).

 [129]. Id. See also Lusardi v. McHugh, EEOC Appeal No. 0120133395, 2015 WL 1607756 at *8 (Apr. 1, 2015).

 [130]. Lusardi, 2015 WL 1607756, at *1.

 [131]. Id. at *2.

 [132]. Id.

 [133]. Id. at *10.

 [134]. See, e.g., Ryan v. Grae & Rybicki P.C., 135 F.3d 867, 870 (2d Cir. 1998).

 [135]. See Rizvi, supra note 533; Patrick Dorrian, EEO Roundup: What Deference Do Courts Give to the EEOC’s Views?, Bloomberg BNA (June 8, 2016), https://www.bna.com/eeo-roundup-deference-b57982073811 (discussing the deference given to the EEOC).

 [136]. Best Practices, supra note 70, at 1.

 [137]. Id.

 [138]. Id. (emphasis added).

 [139]. Id. at 2.

 [140]. Office of Fed. Contract Compliance Programs, Dep’t of Labor, Frequently Asked Questions: Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, https://www.dol.gov/ofccp/LGBT/LGBT_FAQs.html#Q24 (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [141]. Id.

 [142]. See, e.g., Examples of Court Decisions Supporting Coverage of LGBT-Related Discrimination Under Title VII, Equal Employment Opportunity Comm’n, https://www.eeoc.gov
/eeoc/newsroom/wysk/lgbt_examples_decisions.cfm (last visited May 15, 2018); Scott Rabe, Sam Schwartz-Fenwick & Marlin Duro, TITLE VII: Court Breaks from Department of Justice on Transgender Rights, Seyfarth Shaw: Employment Law Outlook (Nov. 2, 2017), https://www.laborandemploymentlawcounsel.com/2017/11/title-vii-court-breaks-from-department-of-justice-on-transgender-rights.

 [143]. Equality Maps: Federal Courts Decisions Title VII: Gender Identity, Movement Advancement Project, http://www.lgbtmap.org/equality-maps/federal_court_decisions (last updated May 15, 2018).

 [144]. Id.

 [145]. Id.

 [146]. See generally Barnes v. City of Cincinnati, 401 F.3d 729 (6th Cir. 2005); Smith v. City of Salem, 378 F.3d 566 (6th Cir. 2004); Rosa v. Park West Bank & Trust Co., 214 F.3d 213 (1st Cir. 2000); Schwenk v. Hartford, 204 F.3d 1187 (9th Cir. 2000); Glenn v. Brumby, 72 4 F. Supp. 2d 1284 (N.D. Ga. 2010), aff’d, 663 F.3d 1312 (11th Cir. 2011).

 [147]. See cases cited supra note 1466.

 [148]. Barnes v. City of Cincinnati, 401 F.3d 729, 741 (6th Cir. 2005); Smith v. City of Salem, 378 F.3d 566, 575 (6th Cir. 2004). See also Sexual Orientation and Transgender Discrimination, Katz, Marshall & Banks, LLP http://www.kmblegal.com/practice-areas/discrimination-retaliation/sexual-orientation-transgender-discrimination (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [149]. Smith, 378 F.3d at 572. See also Eric S. Dreiband & Brett Swearingen, The Evolution of Title VII—Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity, and the Civil Rights Act of 1964 7–8 (2015).

 [150]. Smith, 378 F.3d at 575.

 [151]. Barnes, 401 F.3d at 733. See also Dreiband & Swearingen, supra note 14949, at 8.

 [152]. Barnes, 401 F.3d at 737–38.

 [153]. Glenn v. Brumby, 663 F.3d 1312, 1313–14 (11th Cir. 2011).

 [154]. Id. at 1316.

 [155]. Id. at 1320–21.

 [156]. Id. 1316–17.

 [157]. Id. at 1318–19.

 [158]. See Macy v. Holder, EEOC Appeal No. 0120120821, 2012 WL 1435995, at *7–10 (Apr. 20, 2012) (“Thus, a transgender person who has experienced discrimination based on his or her gender identity may establish a prima facie case of sex discrimination through any number of different formulations.”).

 [159]. Id. at *7–8.

 [160]. Schroer v. Billington, 577 F. Supp. 2d 293, 305 (D.D.C. 2008).

 [161]. Id. at 307–08.

 [162]. Id. at 306–07.

 [163]. See, e.g., Etsitty v. Utah Transit Auth., 502 F.3d 1215, 1221 (10th Cir. 2007); Ulane v. E. Airlines Inc., 742 F.2d 1081 (7th Cir. 1984).

 [164]. Etsitty, 502 F.3d at 1218.

 [165]. Id. at 1224–25.

 [166]. Id. at 1221–22.

 [167]. Id. at 1222.

 [168]. See, e.g., Glenn v. Brumby, 663 F.3d 1312, 1318 n.5 (11th Cir. 2011) (discussing the impact of Price Waterhouse on the Ulane decision); Chavez v. Credit Nation Auto Sales, 49 F. Supp. 3d 1163, 1189–90 (N.D. Ga. 2014) (same).

 [169]. See Hively v. Ivy Tech Cmty. Coll. of Ind., 853 F.3d 339, 345–46 (7th Cir. 2017). For an argument that Hively overruled Ulane, see Mark Joseph Stern, The 7th Circuit’s Landmark Anti-Gay Discrimination Ruling is also Great News for Trans Rights, Slate (Apr. 5, 2017, 2:16 PM), http://www.slate.com/blogs/outward/2017/04/05/_7th_circuit_decision_in_hively_is_great_news_for_trans_rights.html (“Hively therefore overturned Ulane.”).

 [170]. Id.

 [171]. Id. at 350–51.

 [172]. Id. at 351–52.

 [173]. Roberts v. Clark Cty. Sch. Dist., 215 F. Supp. 3d 1001, 1014–15 (D. Nev. 2016).

 [174]. Id. at 1005–06.

 [175]. Id.

 [176]. Id. at 1015.

 [177]. Id. at 1016.

 [178]. Id.

 [179]. Mickens v. GE Co., No. 3:16CV-00603-JHM, 2016 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 163961, at *10 (W.D. Ky. 2016).

 [180]. Id. at *2–3.

 [181]. Id. at *8–9.

 [182]. Id. at *9.

 [183]. Cruzan v. Special Sch. Dist. No. 1, 294 F.3d 981, 982–83 (8th Cir. 2002).

 [184]. Id.

 [185]. Id. at 984.

 [186]. Id. at 982, 984.

 [187]. Id.

 [188]. See supra Parts III, IV.

 [189]. See Emily McCord, North Carolinians Who Support “Bathroom Law” Say They’re Being Drowned Out, NPR (May 15, 2016, 5:14 PM), http://www.npr.org/2016/05/15/477946675/north-carolinians-who-support-bathroom-law-say-theyre-being-drowned-out.

 [190]. Complaint for Declaratory Judgement at 6, McCrory v. United States, No 5:16-cv-00238-BO (E.D. N.C. May 9, 2016).

 [191]. See Jim S. McNeill & Peter Stockburger, Transgender Bathroom Debate: What’s the Deference?, Law360 (May 18, 2016, 1:07 PM), https://www.law360.com/articles/796989.

 [192]. Id.

 [193]. Ulane v. E. Airlines Inc., 742 F.2d 1081, 1084 (7th Cir. 1984).

 [194]. Id. at 1084–85.

 [195]. Id. at 1085.

 [196]. See, e.g., Dana Beyer, Jillian T. Weiss & Riki Wilchins, New Title VII and EEOC Rulings Protect Transgender Employees 3 (2014), http://transgenderlawcenter.org/wp-content
/uploads/2014/01/TitleVII-Report-Final012414.pdf.

 [197]. See Etsitty, 502 F.3d at 1223–24; Dreiband & Swearingen, supra note 1499. 

 [198]. See McNeill & Stockburger, supra note 191.

 [199]. Id.

 [200]. Nicole Russell, The Transgender Lobby’s Demands Are Not Civil Rights, Federalist (Nov. 22, 2016), http://thefederalist.com/2016/11/22/transgender-lobbys-demands-not-civil-rights.

 [201]. Id.

 [202]. Id.

 [203]. Transgender people are estimated to represent about 0.5% of the United States population. Flores et al., supra note 2, at 5.

 [204]. Business Leaders Support HB2 & Governor McCrory, Keep NC Safe, http://keepmyncsafe.com/hundreds-business-leaders-show-support-hb2-governor-mccrory (last updated Apr. 29, 2016).

 [205]. Id.; Complaint for Declaratory Judgement, supra note 190, at 2.

 [206]. Legal Battle is Building Over Transgender Librarian, Tuscaloosa News (Aug. 25, 1999), https://genderidentitywatch.com/2015/01/07/cruzan-v-special-school-dist-1-usa.

 [207]. Id.; Business Leaders Support HB2, supra note 204.

 [208]. Stevie Borrello, Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence Organizations Debunk “Bathroom Predator Myth”, ABC News (Apr. 22, 2016, 7:15 PM), http://abcnews.go.com/US/sexual-assault-domestic-violence-organizations-debunk-bathroom-predator/story?id=38604019.

 [209]. Id.

 [210]. See, e.g., Arthur S. Leonard, A Battle Over Statutory Interpretation: Title VII and Claims of Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity Discrimination, Other Publications, 2017, at 3.

 [211]. See, e.g., Complaint at 7, United States v. North Carolina, No. 1:16-cv-00425 (M.D. N.C. May 19, 2016).

 [212]. See Leonard, supra note 210, at 4.

 [213]. See, e.g., Barnes v. City of Cincinnati, 401 F.3d 729, 737 (6th Cir. 2005); Smith v. City of Salem, 378 F.3d 566, 571–73 (6th Cir. 2004).

 [214]. See Leonard, supra note 210, at 4–5.

 [215]. Oncale v. Sundowner Offshore Servs., 523 U.S. 75, 81–82 (1997). See also Leonard, supra note 210, at 4–5.

 [216]. Oncale, 523 U.S. at 79–80.

 [217]. See Leonard, supra note 210, at 4–5.

 [218]. Complaint, supra note 211, at 7.

 [219]. Id.

 [220]. Id. at 7–9.

 [221]. Id. at 4, 6.

 [222]. Id. at 9.

 [223]. See id.

 [224]. See, e.g., Jody L. Herman, Gendered Restrooms and Minority Stress: The Public Regulation of Gender and Its Impact on Transgender People’s Lives, 19 J. Pub. Mgmt. & Soc. Pol’y 65, 71–78 (2013).

 [225]. Brady, supra note 24.

 [226]. Sexual Assault and the LGBTQ Community, Human Rights Campaign, http://www.hrc.org/resources/sexual-assault-and-the-lgbt-community (last visited May 15, 2018).

 [227]. Jennifer Litton Tidd, Segregated Bathrooms Will Increase Violence Against Women, LGBTQ Nation (May 14, 2016), http://www.lgbtqnation.com/2016/05/segregated-bathroom-laws-will-increase-violence-trans-people.

 [228]. Zach Ford, STUDY: Transgender People Experience Discrimination Trying to Use Bathrooms, Think Progress (June 26, 2013, 1:06 PM), https://thinkprogress.org/study-transgender-people-experience-discrimination-trying-to-use-bathrooms-34232263e6b3.

 [229]. See generally Herman, supra note 224; Ford, supra note 228.

 [230]. Shoshana Goldberg & Andrew Reynolds, The North Carolina Bathroom Bill Could Trigger a Health Crisis Among Transgender Youth, Research Shows, Wash. Post: Monkey Cage (Apr. 18, 2016), https://wapo.st/1S5q0px?tid=ss_tw-bottom&utm_term=.66bad834133f.

 [231]. Complaint, supra note 211, at 9–10.

 [232]. Goldberg & Reynolds, supra note 230.

 [233]. Ford, supra note 228.

 [234]. How A Poison Pill Worded As “Sex” Gave Birth to Transgender Rights, NPR: Politics (May 15, 2016, 7:36 AM), https://www.npr.org/2016/05/15/478075804/how-a-poison-pill-worded-as-sex-gave-birth-to-transgender-rights.

 [235]. Mark Joseph Stern, How a 1964 Civil Rights Law Makes North Carolina’s Bathroom Bill Illegal, Slate: Outward (May 18, 2016, 10:14 AM), http://www.slate.com/blogs/outward/2016/05/18
/sex_discrimination_is_trans_discrimination_gilliam_thomas_explains.html. See generally Gillian Thomas, Because of Sex (2016) (discussing the inception of protection against sex discrimination in Title VII).

 [236]. See generally Thomas, supra note 235.

 [237]. Ulane v. E. Airlines, Inc., 742 F.2d 1081, 1084, 1086 (7th Cir. 1984).

 [238]. See, e.g., Ford, supra note 229.

 [239]. See Elizabeth Bartholet, Proof of Discriminatory Intent Under Title VII: United States Postal Service Board of Governors v. Aikens, 70 Calif. L. Rev. 1201, 1202–03 (1982).

 [240]. See Brown v. Bd. of Educ., 347 U.S. 483, 495 (1954); Brief for NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, Inc. and the Asian American Legal Defense and Education Fund as Amici Curiae in Support of Respondent, Gloucester Cty. Sch. Bd. v. G.G., 137 S. Ct. 1239 (2017) (No. 16-273).

 [241]. See generally Ann P. Haas, Philip L. Rodgers & Jody L. Herman, Williams Inst., Suicide Attempts Among Transgender and Gender Non-Conforming Adults (2014), https://williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/wp-content/uploads/AFSP-Williams-Suicide-Report-Final.pdf.

 [242]. See Questionable Questions About Transgender Identity, Nat’l Ctr. for Transgender Equality (Sept. 2, 2016), https://transequality.org/issues/resources/questionable-questions-about-transgender-identity.

 [243]. See Vincent J. Samar, The Right to Privacy and the Right to Use the Bathroom Consistent with One’s Gender Identity, 24 Duke J. Gender L. & Pol’y 33, 55 (2016).

 

The Jury and Empire: The Insular Cases and the Anti-Jury Movement in the Gilded Age and Progressive Era – Article by Andrew Kent

From Volume 91, Number 3 (March 2018)
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The Jury and Empire:
The Insular Cases and the Anti-Jury Movement in the Gilded Age and Progressive Era

Andrew Kent[*]

This Article argues that there was an important causal link, to date unrecognized, between the widespread dissatisfaction with the jury in the United States during the Gilded Age and Progressive era among many elite lawyers and judges and choices by U.S. policymakers and jurists about colonial governance in Puerto Rico and the Philippines. The story starts with the Insular Cases—landmark Supreme Court decisions from the early twentieth century holding that jury rights and some other constitutional guarantees did not apply in Puerto Rico and the Philippines until and unless Congress had taken decisive action to “incorporate” the territories into the union, which it never did. The conventional wisdom among scholars is that the Supreme Court in these decisions shamefully ratified the U.S. government’s discrimination and domination over the peoples of newly-acquired colonies. Racism and cultural chauvinism are blamed as primary causal factors.

The Article shows that Congress, the executive, the courts, and local legislatures in the Philippines and Puerto Rico granted almost every single right contained in the Constitution to the territorial inhabitants, with the exception of the jury. While racism was present and causally important, it is also true that U.S. governance in the territories was not a project of wholesale discrimination. Motivations, goals, and outcomes were complex. Protection of rights of local inhabitants was a key concern of U.S. policymakers. But the jury was considered a unique case, different than other rights.

To understand why the jury was thought uniquely unsuited for the new U.S. colonies, this Article fills out an under-appreciated history of the jury in the mainland United States during the Gilded Age and Progressive Era. Many histories of the jury skip from the adulation of the institution at the Founding to the Warren and Burger Courts’ decisions over 150 years later that racial and gender discrimination in jury service were unconstitutional and that the criminal petit jury was a fundamental right. But the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries saw severe criticism of the jury by elite lawyers, the newly-created bar associations in big cities, the reformist press, and progressive movement leaders. Many states cut back on jury rights at the time. And the Supreme Court then held that states should not be forced to “straight jacket” themselves, in the Court’s words, to the common law procedure of old England that was found in the Bill of Rights, but should be free to experiment with more efficient criminal and civil procedure. Leaders of the anti-jury movement in the United States were also leading policymakers for colonial issues in Puerto Rico and the Philippines, notably William Howard Taft. Many of the same arguments against the jury were made in both contexts. Linking the anti-jury movement to the legal and political decision-making about colonial governance of the new territories helps enrich our understanding of both.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

I. Scholarship on the Insular Cases

II. Disenchantment with the Jury and Other
“Non-Progressive, Delay-Producing” Legal Procedures

A. The Case for Reform

B. Dissatisfaction with the Jury Trial in a “Quick and Active Age”

C. Jury Reform at the State Level

D. Resistance to Jury Reform

III. Jury Rights in Supreme Court Case Law from the Mainland

IV. The Jury and Other Individual Rights in the Philippines

A. The Period of Military-Executive Government

B. Decision-Making About the Jury in the Philippines

C. Congress’s 1902 Organic Act

D. The Mankichi and Dorr Cases: Jury Is Not Constitutionally Required in Unincorporated Territory

E. Subsequent Debate in the Philippines About the Jury

V. The Jury and Other Individual Rights in
Puerto Rico

A. The Period of U.S. Army Rule

B. Congressional and Insular Legislation

1. The Foraker Act for Puerto Rico

2. The Puerto Rico Legislative Assembly

C. Experience with Jury Trials in Puerto Rico During the Era of the Insular Cases

D. Muratti, Tapia, and Balzac: The Supreme Court Reiterates that the Jury Is Not Constitutionally Required

Conclusion

APPENDIX

 

Introduction

As a result of the 1898 war against Spain, the United States annexed the Spanish colonies of the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and Guam and temporarily occupied Cuba.[1] Independent of the war, in 1898 the United States also annexed the nation of Hawaii.[2] According to Supreme Court historian Charles Warren, “by far the most important fact in the Court’s history,[3] during the ensuing decade was a series of decisions known colloquially as the Insular Cases. Starting in 1901, the Insular Cases addressed the legal status of new overseas possessions and their peoples under the U.S. Constitution and statutes.

The primary Insular Cases asked whether constitutional and statutory provisions concerning tariffs and the use of juries in criminal cases were applicable to newly-annexed islands.[4] These questions were the occasion for the Supreme Court’s involvement in a contentious national debate about whether the Constitution allowed the United States to have an empire—that is, whether the Constitution allowed the United States to annex extra-continental territory unlikely ever to be admitted to statehood and to govern with fewer constitutional limitations than on the mainland.[5] The metaphor used to describe the debate was whether “the Constitution followed the flag” in the Philippines and Puerto Rico—the two territories on which the debate centered.[6] For several years, no legal issue received greater attention in Congress, the Executive Branch, and the Supreme Court.

By 1905, a majority of the Court agreed upon a framework for deciding whether the Constitution followed the flag: the doctrine of territorial incorporation.[7] Under this doctrine, the Court held that some constitutional guarantees did not automatically follow the flag—specifically those requiring tariff uniformity and the use of petit and grand juries.[8] Theseand perhaps otherother constitutional provisions would be applicable only if the territory had not only been annexed but had also been further “incorporated” into the United States—that is, deemed an integral and permanent part of the union by Congress, even if not yet granted statehood.[9] The Court examined the treaty ceding the Spanish territories and subsequent congressional actions to determine that Puerto Rico and the Philippines were “unincorporated.”[10] They “belonged to” but were not fully “part of” the United States.[11] Therefore, their inhabitants were held to be entitled to fewer constitutional rights and guarantees than others living in the United States proper and in its incorporated territories, such as Oklahoma, Hawaii, and Alaska.

The key decisions about constitutional jury rights came in the Hawaii v. Mankichi case of 1903 concerning Hawaii (prior to its incorporation into the union), Dorr v. United States in 1904 from the Philippines (never incorporated and soon declared by the President and Congress to be destined for ultimate independence), Rassmussen v. United States in 1905 from Alaska (after its incorporation into the union), and Balzac v. Porto Rico in 1922 from Puerto Rico (reaffirming that Puerto Rico was not incorporated and, hence, constitutional jury rights did not apply, even after Congress granted citizenship in 1917).[12]

In the initial decisions settling upon the incorporation doctrine, the Court did not clearly decide the status of other constitutional rights in unincorporated territories besides jury guarantees and tariff uniformity. For instance, could Congress abridge the freedom of speech or take property for public purposes without paying compensation in Puerto Rico and the Philippines? In the early Insular Cases, the Court indicated that trial by jury and indictment by grand jury were “not fundamental”[13] and, in various dicta, opined that certain “fundamental” constitutional rights would be applicable everywhere that U.S. sovereignty reigned.[14] But the Court, with one exception, did not specifically name these fundamental, always-applicable rights in any actual holding during the crucial years American colonial policy was being established.[15]

Starting immediately after these decisions were first issued in 1901, and continuing to the present, the Insular Cases and the doctrine of territorial incorporation have been subjected to withering attack. The rights of residents of all U.S. territories and commonwealths—Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and the Northern Marianas—continue to be framed by constitutional doctrines of the 18991905 period, holding that only fundamental constitutional rights apply.[16] The institutional and legal trajectory of the independent Philippine state—which has been troubled, to say the least—was set by U.S. rule and shaped decisively by the Insular Cases. The Insular Cases have also been used to decide the legal status of persons held outside U.S. sovereignty but under U.S. control.[17] Criticism of the Insular Cases has only gathered force over time because constitutional rules that treat some population groups worse than others, especially when there are racial or ethnic differences between minority and majority, have been ill-favored at least since Brown v. Board of Education[18] and the civil rights revolution.[19]

Most contemporary scholarship about the Insular Cases and the doctrine of territorial incorporation sees them as examples of discrimination, domination, and denial of rights. Scholarship charges that the Supreme Court allowed the U.S. government to “totally disregard the Constitution in governing the newly acquired territory.”[20] And most critics identify racism and cultural chauvinism as the dominant factors driving the Court’s and the political branches’ supposed decisions to deny individual rights and disregard the Constitution in the unincorporated territories.[21]

Although I have joined the many commentators in finding that aspects of the Justices’ reasoning in the Insular Cases was “frankly racist,”[22] and although the same can be said for the statements of members of Congress and the executive branch involved in insular policy, this Article argues, contrary to the consensus in scholarship, that the explanatory power of racism and cultural chauvinism is somewhat limited on the important issue of which individual rights were accorded to the inhabitants of unincorporated territories. As discussed below, during the period 19001917, the residents of Puerto Rico and the Philippines were granted by statute every individual right found in the U.S. Constitution, with the exception of the Second Amendment right to bear arms, the Third Amendment prohibition on quartering soldiers in private homes in peacetime, and, in the Philippines, the rights to a jury trial and grand jury indictment.[23] A story which focuses only on a presumed intent by U.S. decision makers to dominate, discriminate, and deny rights to the people of Puerto Rico and the Philippines needs revision. If we are not to miss the forest for the trees, it is notable how many rights were granted.

Putting aside constitutional tariff rules, the irrelevant Third Amendment, and the Second Amendment, which almost no one discussed,[24] it turns out that jury guarantees were the only rights which U.S. policymakers in Washington actually wanted to withhold from residents of unincorporated territories. After early endorsements of Congress and the executive branch in their view that the Constitution did not require access to a jury[25] or compliance with the Export and Uniformity Clauses regarding tariffs, the Supreme Court never again held that a single other constitutional right was inapplicable.[26]

Since the jury trial is the right that U.S. policymakers in the three branches actively worked to withhold, a search for causal explanations for U.S. governance and policy toward the Philippines and Puerto Rico on the issues of individual rights and legal procedure must focus on the jury.

Racism and cultural chauvinism of U.S. policymakers undoubtedly played a role in deciding that the jury was not necessary or appropriate in Puerto Rico and especially the Philippines. The Supreme Court suggested that the Philippines contained many “uncivilized” inhabitants, in the course of holding that the Constitution did not require the use of a criminal petit jury in a felony case there.[27] William Howard Taft, a key policymaker—first in the executive branch and then on the Supreme Court—made public arguments against introduction of the jury trial in the Philippines that sound culturally chauvinistic to modern ears. He wrote, for example, that 90% of Filipinos “or more are densely ignorant, superstitious, and subject to imposition of all sorts.”[28] Echoing the racialized social Darwinism of the day, Puerto Ricans, and particularly Filipinos, were often derided by U.S. policymakers as mere children in the art of self-government, who would need extensive tutoring before they were fit to participate fully in Anglo-Saxon institutions.[29]

But the wider context in which the decisions to restrict the use of juries were reached shows a very different set of ideologies, goals, and motivations were also—not instead, but also—at work. Merits-based views about the proper working of the justice system, the specific defects of juries, the desire to allow experimentation with legal procedure, and the need for law to be in harmony with the habits and traditions of the people were also significant factors in setting U.S. policy toward juries in Puerto Rico and the Philippines.

This Article takes a new view of the Insular Cases, by contextualizing the decision to withhold jury rights in the colonial dependencies by reference to a contemporaneous movement by elite lawyers in the metropole—the mainland United States—to restrict the use of the jury, to empower courts, to simplify procedure, and to streamline litigation. This broader, domestic context for colonial policy is found by examining the activities of elite lawyers and judges in the courts and in their new bar associations that emerged in the latter part of the nineteenth century, the upper-class reform movements in cities like New York, and the work of progressive legal academics and political scientists concerned with promoting efficient, non-corrupt government. This context is also seen in Supreme Court case law holding that the new Fourteenth Amendment should not shackle states to ancient common law procedure, like the jury rules in the Bill of Rights, but should be interpreted to allow procedure to be flexibly adapted to the needs of the times. Histories of the jury in America tend to skip from the Founding to modern times, neglecting the period of intellectual ferment and institutional reform that this Article covers.

This Article proceeds in five main parts. Part I briefly reviews the current state of scholarship on the Insular Cases. Part II shows how many elite lawyers had, in the last decades of the nineteenth century and first decade of the twentieth, become thoroughly disenchanted with the jury. This was a stunning reversal. At the Founding, the jury had been universally lauded.[30] It was one of the few individual rights to be protected in the original Constitution (in Article III). And three provisions of the Bill of Rights protected the jury. Blackstone’s description of the jury as the palladium—the safeguard—of liberty[31] was frequently intoned.[32] Tocqueville’s famous description of the jury in Democracy in America (1835) as an essential educational tool for American democratic self-government was widely believed and repeated.[33]

But by the later part of the nineteenth century, the grand jury and the petit jury in both civil and criminal cases were heavily criticized. Many states were reforming their judicial procedure to eliminate some jury rights. This was part of a larger reform movement focusing on delay and excessive procedural technicality that was perceived to be bogging down both the civil and criminal justice systems. Lawyers who were central to U.S. policy in the new insular possessions—men like Taft and Elihu Root—were at the same time prominent critics of mainland legal procedure, including the jury.

Part III shows how the U.S. Supreme Court’s jurisprudence under the new Fourteenth Amendment adopted much of the perspective of anti-jury reformers. The Court refused to interpret the Constitution to “straightjacket”[34] the states with the common law procedural rights like the jury and grand jury that the U.S. Constitution mandated for the federal government. The Court praised the spirit of progressive reform of procedure that it saw in the states and even predicted that if a territory with a civil law tradition came into the union, it would make sense to allow that territory to keep their time-worn legal institutions and procedures intact. This latter point reflected the widespread view of elite lawyers at the time that law worked best, and was most legitimate, when it remained consistent with the habits, customs, and views of the people.

Part IV traces the beginnings of U.S. rule in the Philippines, the reform of legal procedure by the U.S. military and U.S. executive, and the debates about whether the Constitution followed the flag there. It shows that the executive branch and Congress extended by executive order and then statute essentially all individual rights that were contained in the U.S. Constitution except jury rights. And it shows how leading administration policymakers, Taft and Root, made the same arguments against the use of the jury for Filipinos as were made in the mainland at the same time.

Part V turns to Puerto Rico, which took a very different path than the Philippines. Washington gave local decision makers much greater leeway in Puerto Rico, and the local legislature and courts took the lead in crafting protections for individual rights. As in the Philippines, essentially every right enjoyed in the mainland as a limit on the federal government was, by statute or judicial interpretation, granted to the people of Puerto Rico. But unlike in the Philippines, the jury was used too but only to try criminal cases. Even when given full sway to legislate rights for themselves in more recent years, Puerto Ricans have not constitutionalized the civil or grand jury.

* * *

Before turning to the argument, it makes sense to pause briefly to introduce two main characters who played significant roles in U.S. colonial policy and in the procedural reform movement in the mainland.

Before he became president of the United States (19091913) and chief justice of the United States (192130), William Howard Taft already had extensive government service. He was appointed at age twenty-nine to the Ohio superior court bench by Governor Joseph Foraker, later an influential U.S. Senator on colonial policy.[35] When Taft was only thirty-two, Foraker pushed President Harrison to put him on the U.S. Supreme Court. Harrison opted to make Taft the Solicitor General of the United States. Harrison soon moved Taft to a judgeship on the Sixth Circuit, where he stayed until another Ohio politician, President McKinley, asked Taft in January 1900 to lead a commission to establish civil government in the Philippines, then in insurrection against the United States.

Taft remained in Washington through the spring of 1900, when the administration and Congress were debating the form of government and constitutional status of Puerto Rico. Taft then left for the Philippines, and managed his commission so satisfactorily that he was appointed the first civil governor of the Philippines in summer 1901, when the insurrection had been largely quelled. Taft held the post until the end of 1903, and then came back to Washington to be the Secretary of War—the office that President McKinley had made the overseer of all U.S. colonial policy. Taft had been in Washington the previous year, to testify and lobby Congress, and speak to the press and public, about the form of civil government to create for the Philippines. Taft was a self-described progressive conservative.[36] As Chief Justice, Taft wrote the Balzac opinion in 1922, solidifying the territorial incorporation doctrine into U.S. law and the rule that constitutional jury rights were not protected in unincorporated territories.

Elihu Root was, like Taft, a progressive conservative and one of the most respected lawyers in the nation. Root began his career as a private lawyer in New York City after the Civil War, amassing a lucrative practice of influential clients such as Jay Gould, Chester Arthur, and E.H. Harriman.[37] When he became president, Arthur appointed Root the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York (188385). Root resumed his private law practice and became a civic leader, involved in leadership roles in the Union League Club, New York City-based reform organizations, and bar associations, relatively new organizations which elite lawyers had begun forming to press their views on regulation of the legal profession and the judiciary. Root’s reform work was of the good government variety, focused on reducing corruption and improving state and local government services like schools and police. In summer 1899, President McKinley overrode Root’s objection that he knew “nothing about war . . . nothing about the military” to make him Secretary of War, telling Root that now that the war was over and problems of peace were most pressing, he needed “a lawyer to direct the government of these Spanish islands.”[38] Root and Taft quickly became the McKinley administration’s leaders on colonial policy. After turning over the Secretary of War post to Taft in 1904, Root became President Roosevelt’s Secretary of State. He later served as U.S. Senator from New York.

I.  Scholarship on the Insular Cases

For several decades, scholarship about the Insular Cases has been uniformly critical. Proceeding normatively, many commentators, myself included, have argued that the best understanding of U.S. republicanism and our constitutional tradition is that all persons within the sovereign limits of the United States should have equal rights and equal legal status.[39]

Descriptive or interpretive scholarship has also been highly critical. Many critics charge the Court in the Insular Cases with inventing a “novel”[40] constitutional “innovation,”[41] “a hitherto unexisting difference between ‘incorporated’ and ‘unincorporated’ territories,”[42] that was self-consciously crafted to facilitate imperial expansion without making the peoples of the new possessions U.S. citizens.[43] It is undeniable that the Court wanted to leave it to the political branches to determine whether to make the new insular possessions permanent parts of the union and their people citizens. The Court spoke with candor about the desire to facilitate experimentation with imperial expansion.[44] Given strong public support for the McKinley administration, the well-established and frequently exercised power to acquire territory via treaty,[45] and the textuallygranted constitutional powers of Congress over naturalization, governance of territories, and admission of new States[46]—powers understood from the nineteenth century until the present to be plenary in nature—the Court’s decisions to defer to Congress and the executive branch on issues of political status, political rights, and citizenship were perhaps inevitable. But the recent legacy of the Fourteenth Amendment’s repudiation of Dred Scott v. Sandford[47] on the issues of citizenship and equal rights in the United States, seemingly reaffirmed in a 1898 Supreme Court decision that birthright citizenship knew no distinctions of race, ethnicity, or parentage,[48] still led many commentators, both then and now, to hope that the Court would repudiate colonialism and unequal citizenship.[49]

For a variety of reasons, the 1898 decisions of the McKinley administration to accept cession from Spain of Puerto Rico and Guam were not particularly controversial.[50] But substantial segments of the American public strongly opposed annexation of the Philippines—an enormous archipelago of over 3,000 islands, located half-way around the world, with a population of somewhere between seven and ten million people.[51] Racism, xenophobia, and cultural chauvinism were prominent reasons for this opposition.[52] Filipinos were widely portrayed in the American press as dark-skinned, culturally inferior savages.[53] George Vest, a Democratic Senator from Missouri and leading anti-expansionist, wrote just prior to the vote on ratifying the annexation treaty that “[t]he idea of conferring American citizenship upon the half-civilized, piratical, muck-running inhabitants of [the Philippines] . . . and creating a State of the Union from such materials, is . . . absurd and indefensible.”[54] On the other hand, some proponents of annexation viewed rule over the Philippines in racial terms; these proponents viewed it as an opportunity for “English-speaking and Teutonic peoples” to become “the master organizers of the world”[55] and uplift supposedly benighted lesser races.

Public and congressional resistance to acquiring the Philippines only increased when the Filipino insurgents, who had earlier fought Spain, attacked U.S. forces at Manila in February 1899, just as the U.S. Senate was set to vote on the treaty of peace and annexation.[56] The treaty was nevertheless approved by the Senate, but the Senate passed a resolution stating future U.S. policy toward the Philippines: no “incorporation” of Filipinos into the American body politic and no “permanent annex[ation]” of the islands.[57]

The Philippines was quickly considered a major headache by U.S. policymakers because of a bloody rebellion that began in early 1899; it was also generally assumed to be destined for ultimate independence due to the perceived impossibility of ever assimilating it.[58] As litigation of the first Insular Cases proceeded through the lower federal courts, the Democratic Party platform of 1900 announced that “[t]he Filipinos cannot be citizens without endangering our civilization.”[59] Christina Ponsa-Kraus has shown that anxiety that the United States remain constitutionally free to grant independence to the Philippines and its “alien” population[60] was a crucial driver of U.S. colonial policy, including on the Supreme Court; many, including key Supreme Court Justices like Edward Douglass White, were concerned that it would be impossible to do this if the Constitution were fully extended to the Philippines.[61]

Thus, I have joined the many commentators who find that aspects of the Justices’ reasoning in the Insular Cases were racist and that racism and cultural chauvinism drove the actions of important political leaders, especially among anti-expansionists in the Democratic Party.[62] Racial considerations undoubtedly influenced U.S. policy-making both during the debate about whether to annex the Philippines and also during the constitutional litigation that resulted in the doctrine of territorial incorporation. This was the height of the Jim Crow-Plessy era [63] on the Supreme Court and the country at large. Racism deeply permeated American life and thought.

I concur with the current scholarly consensus on this score. But when the discussion turns to questions of individual rights and of how the territories would actually be governed, the received wisdom in much of the current scholarship needs revision. The dominant theme is that U.S. policymakers made conscious choices to purposefully treat residents of the new insular possessions worse than residents of the mainland.

Many commentators, accepting the framing that U.S. rule was one of domination and denial of rights, have asserted that the Insular Cases broke with a “settled understanding” of extending all constitutional rights to residents of U.S. territories.[64] But more recent revisionist scholarship has noted first that, even within the States of the Union, not all constitutional provisions were everywhere applicablefor instance, the Bill of Rights had not been incorporated as a limit on state governments at the time of the Insular Cases and Article III guarantees of judicial independence never applied in territorial courts.[65] Second, scholars have also noted that the Supreme Court’s pre-1901 case law about individual constitutional rights in the mainland territories actually vacillated among different propositions,[66] with only the Insular Cases themselves settling the matter in favor of the view that the full Constitution (to the extent applicable), including jury rights, protected U.S. territories only once they were incorporated by Congress.[67]

The doctrine that residents of the new unincorporated territories have fewer individual constitutional rights drives much of the criticism of the Insular Cases and the political decisions underlying them. In the Insular Cases, say many critics, the Court allowed the U.S. government to “totally disregard the Constitution in governing the newly acquired territory,”[68] and “govern . . . without extending constitutional rights to the residents.”[69] This is overstated; as noted in the Introduction, the Court held that the Due Process Clause and other fundamental rights apply in Puerto Rico and the Philippines.[70] A related criticism is that the Court held in the Insular Cases that “the Constitution nominally applied, albeit in skeletal form” and the incorporated territories were “largely in an extraconstitutional zone.”[71] The end result is that the people of unincorporated territories are understood to have had “limited rights”[72] and were “unprotected by many fundamental constitutional guarantees.”[73] The Court, Congress, and the executive left the unincorporated territories as “coloni[es] . . . totally subordinated and subject to the mercy of Congress.”[74] This too is overstated and in need of revision. First by executive order, and then by statute and judicial decisions, residents of the two territories came to possess almost all of the same rights as the U.S. Constitution provided, with the exception of the Second and Third Amendments and the partial exception of jury rights.[75]

Commentators identify racism and cultural chauvinism as the dominant factors driving the Court’s and the political branches’ decisions to subordinate the residents of the unincorporated territories, to give them a second-class status, and to deny them constitutional rights.[76] The Oxford Companion to the Supreme Court, for example, states that the majority position in the Insular Cases was “largely racially motivated.”[77] Akhil Amar has quipped that the Court “refused, in a series of decisions known as the Insular Cases, to extend the benefit of jury trials to brown-skinned folk in various island territories.”[78] Judge Juan Torruella has charged that “obvious racial biases” drove the Court in deciding Balzac on the lack of constitutional jury rights in Puerto Rico and other unincorporated territories.[79] Other commentators on the jury decisions agree.[80]

Framing the Insular Cases solely in terms of discrimination, subordination, and racism, as so much contemporary scholarship does, is not inaccurate, but it is incomplete. Other important variables, motivations, and contexts are ignored when this frame is the sole lens through which the cases and the government’s decision-making is viewed. The remainder of this Article supplies additional context—an additional lens through which to understand judicial and political policymaking about individual rights in Puerto Rico and the Philippines.

II.  Disenchantment with the Jury and Other “Non-Progressive, Delay-Producing” Legal Procedures

Crucial context for the decision to specifically withhold the jury—among all of the other rights the common law and U.S. Constitution provided—from incorporated insular territories can be found in a reform movement in the United States. Several decades in the making, this movement, led by elite lawyers and civic reformers, sought to reduce court delays, unjustified acquittals of criminals, and unfair civil verdicts against corporations, by reforming the system of grand and petit juries.

There were dramatic changes made in legal procedure, both civil and criminal, in the latter part of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It was an era, as the Supreme Court put it, in which many states were experimenting to find “simpler and more expeditious forms of administering justice,” [81] more in tune with the needs of a “quick and active age.”[82]

A.  The Case for Reform

In a widely discussed address to the 1905 graduating class at Yale Law School, Taft excoriated “the administration of the criminal law in all the states in the Union” as “a disgrace to our civilization.”[83] Then Secretary of War under President Theodore Roosevelt, Taft oversaw U.S. policy and governance in the new insular possessions. He had replaced Elihu Root, who stayed in the cabinet as Secretary of State.

By the turn of the twentieth century, there was a widespread perception among many politicians, academics, and elite lawyers—including Taft and Root—that crime rates were rising and that the criminal justice system was skewed too far in favor of protecting individual rights, thus allowing the guilty to go free.[84] In his famous “disgrace to our civilization” speech,[85] Taft told his Yale audience that there was no longer “certainty of punishment” for criminals.[86] Protections for defendants have been extended and elaborated, posing “greater obstacles in the conviction of the guilty.”[87] Root agreed,[88] as did Oliver Wendell Holmes who wrote, in a dissenting opinion for the Supreme Court joined by Justices White and McKenna, that “[a]t the present time in this country there is more danger that criminals will escape justice than that they will be subjected to tyranny.”[89] Justices Holmes, White, and McKenna voted with the majorities in the Insular Cases, Mankichi, and Dorr, about the jury.

New York City lawyer Everett Wheeler, a civic reformer and one of the founders of the American Bar Association (“ABA”), argued that the severity of punishments at common law created criminal procedure rules that were too protective of defendants and let “myriads of criminals . . . escape just punishment;” instead, the principal object of the system should be to “protect the innocent members of society” from criminals.[90] James Bryce, a well-informed observer of U.S. government and society,found that American “criminal justice . . . is accused of being slow, uncertain, and unduly lenient because of the “soft-heartedness of juries” and “cumbrous and highly technical procedure.”[91] Alfred Conkling Coxe, a federal judge in New York, complained that “notorious criminals” frequently escaped punishment because of legal technicalities and multiple layers of review.[92] Harper’s Weekly thought that “[t]he whole procedure of criminal law seem[ed] to be devised in order to give the defendant every opportunity to evade justice,” and that there were many “abuses of the criminal law in the interest of criminals.”[93] Roscoe Pound criticized criminal procedure for “look[ing] chiefly at individual rights” instead of “the rights of society,” and worried that “society is not protected, crimes are not punished, and lawlessness is general.”[94] Supreme Court Justice David Brewer was so concerned with “tardy justice” that failed to “secure protection to the public” from criminals that he used the occasion of his address to the ABA annual convention in 1895 to call for the elimination of appeals in criminal cases.[95] To his Yale audience, Taft unfavorably compared the common law’s preference for “the utmost liberty of the individual” with the Roman-based civil law system’s “greater anxiety that the state should be protected against crime.”[96]

American critics saw severe problems with the course of justice not just on the criminal side of the docket, but in civil cases as well. The civil justice system was routinely said to be filled with undue delay and expense as well as frequent miscarriages of justice. The ABA formed a blue ribbon “Special Committee to Suggest Remedies and Formulate Proposed Laws to Prevent Delay and Unnecessary Cost in Litigation,” staffed by Roscoe Pound, Everett Wheeler, and other prominent academics and elite lawyers.[97] Articles on the causes and consequences of “Law’s Delay”—a Shakespearean phrase that had become proverbial[98]—filled the periodicals read by elite lawyers and academics, as well as general circulation newspapers, focusing on both civil and criminal law.[99] New York State, to pick one example, convened a special “Commission on the Law’s Delay”[100] chaired by Wheeler Peckham, a Wall Street lawyer, nominee to the Supreme Court, special prosecutor against Tammany Hall, and brother of a Supreme Court Justice.[101] Pound gave a much-noted speech to the ABA in 1905 severely criticizing many aspects of the civil litigation system, notably procedural technicality, complexity, and delay.[102]

There was widespread agreement—among elite, conservative reformers like Taft, Simeon Baldwin (Yale law professor, president of the ABA, and future governor of Connecticut), and Root, as well as more left-leaning progressives in the academy and professions—that both the criminal and civil justice systems were burdened by what Pound called a “hypertrophy of procedure.”[103] According to Pound, procedure was “cumbersome, dilatory, [and] needlessly technical [in] character as a whole,” with an “excessive number of safeguards, loopholes, and mitigating agencies.”[104]

Reforms took many shapes. A frequent complaint was that appellate courts too often reversed in jury trial cases on technical issues, without regard to whether the ultimate result was substantively correct.[105] This issue affected both the civil and criminal dockets and ultimately prompted the enactment of harmless-error statutes at the federal level and in a number of states, prohibiting appellate reversal unless substantial rights were affected or a miscarriage of justice had occurred.[106] As a remedy for delays and to achieve various social goals, municipal court systems in cities like Chicago were substantially redesigned and simplified by progressives.[107] Arbitration started to be used more frequently by members of trade associations to resolve disputes, and reformers began to recommend statutes to insulate arbitral judgments from collateral review by courts.[108] Intermediate appellate courts were added by a number of states to reduce docket pressure on state high courts.[109] The equity side of trial courts’ jurisdiction—where the judge sat without a jury—became more prominent, and equitable remedies and procedures were used more aggressively.[110]

B.  Dissatisfaction with the Jury Trial in a “Quick and Active Age”

The jury was excoriated by many elite lawyers and reformers as the cause of delay, expense, injustice, and uncertainty.[111] Justice Brewer wrote in 1902:

[t]oday [the jury] has become the object of attack and criticism. By not a few it is thought to have outlived its usefulness; they believe that it is the part of wisdom to abolish it entirely and to substitute some other mode of trial,—more, as alleged, in harmony with the spirit of the age.[112]

Judge Coxe observed that the “defects of the jury system” are “so serious that many thoughtful men have advocated its abolition altogether.”[113] A Baton Rouge attorney told the ABA that the failure of juries to convict the obviously guilty has created “a system of jury-made lawlessness.”[114] According to a Boston attorney, “[t]hat there are grave defects in the present [jury] system is undeniable, and there are many who believe that, because of these defects, the system itself, at least in criminal cases, is worthless.”[115] “The jury system is destroying the law,” opined a prominent Texas attorney.[116]

Criticism of the jury became pronounced around the time of the Civil War and increased as the nineteenth century went on.[117] The roots of this criticism went deep. Starting in the early nineteenth century, judges, lawyers, and legislators, taking a newly-professionalized view of the legal system, had begun to tentatively cabin some of the jury’s power. The view that juries had the right to decide questions of both law and fact began to be challenged, especially on the civil side.[118] Commercial lawyers, abetted by judges interested in stability and predictability in the law, began to use procedural devices in civil cases—such as the special case, which permitted a judge to decide the case based on a stipulated set of facts—to take some decision-making away from the jury.[119] Judges started reversing civil verdicts they found contrary to the weight of the evidence, a procedure “hardly known in American law” before the end of the eighteenth century.[120] These were reforms driven by elites. But there were also jury reforms that proceeded from other impulses and parts of the population. During the heyday of Jacksonian democracy, there were debates in a number of states about getting rid of the grand jury, with “critics charging that secret proceedings in criminal matters were contrary to the spirit of the new nation’s democratic institutions.”[121]

In the decades after the Civil War, anti-jury sentiment became more widespread. Dennis Hale has described how the jury was conceived in the Founding and Antebellum Periods as an elite institution staffed by propertied men of above-average intellect, character, and judgment; but as the nineteenth century progressed and universal manhood suffrage and universal jury service (for white males) became the norm, many elites lost respect for the institution.[122]

In an era of high immigration from southern and eastern Europe, intense industrialization and urbanization, economic dislocation and labor strife, populist attacks on big business, corrupt machine politics, and growing popularity of radical left-wing politics in both the prairie and the city,[123] the increasing aversion to the jury from elite lawyers and other members of the genteel and professional classes—often white Anglo-American Protestants—coincided with their more general concerns about the excesses of democracy, the untrustworthy masses, and, in William Wiecek’s words, “[f]ear of disorder and social disintegration.”[124]

It became widely thought that the “better” men in the community did not serve on juries[125] and that jurors were “occasionally obstinate or corrupt,” “not always competent to fully understand or fairly dispose of the true issues raised and facts presented,” and too prone to “ignorance, partiality, or prejudice.”[126] The Nation opined that juries were frequently “twelve extremely illiterate or half-witted men,” and “nobody but the criminals and the ‘jury fixers’ are interested in the continuance of the present state of things.”[127] According to a prominent Indiana attorney, many think that “the jury, as at present constituted, is totally unfit for the work they are to perform; that they are men untrained in the law, for the most part unaccustomed to weighing and balancing evidence and judging of the truthfulness of witnesses.”[128] Even the U.S. Supreme Court criticized “ignorance . . . passion or prejudice” that sometimes influenced jury verdicts.[129]

Elite American lawyers and progressive reformers routinely criticized American jurors for, in the words of George Alger of the New York Bar, “lack of respect for [the] law as law.”[130] As Pound described American juries at the turn of the twentieth century, they too often had “pioneer or frontier” attitudes toward criminal justice and were thus “predisposed to release the accused.”[131] Taft told the Civic Forum in New York City in 1908 that “[a]nother cause of the inefficiency in the administration of the criminal law [in the United States] is the difficulty of securing jurors properly sensible of the duty which they are summoned to perform.”[132]

Changes in the legal profession likely contributed to the jury’s loss of popularity. The leaders of the Bar and the best compensated lawyers had previously been generalists who specialized in trial practice and oratory before judges and juries. But as the nineteenth century advanced, many lawyers, especially the very successful ones, were “actually more men of business, negotiators, managers of corporate enterprises and the like, than lawyers,” as Alfred Russell told the ABA in 1891.[133] As the twentieth century approached, the bar associations in big cities like New York were often led by the new breed of corporate lawyers. And in civil cases, “[b]usiness and [its] lawyers were convinced that juries were incorrigibly plaintiff-minded.”[134] Oliver Wendell Holmes, then a justice on the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts, concurred.[135] The new breed of corporation lawyer was more likely to fear the jury—for bias against corporate clients, for uncertainty and unpredictability, and for delay—than venerate it and make his living pleasing it, as earlier Bar leaders had.[136]

Criticism of the jury often coincided with support for good government reform causes.[137] Organs of liberal, reformist thought like The Nation and Harper’s Weekly were frequent jury critics. Politicization and corruption in the administration of justice were a frequent theme of many anti-jury voices. Many leaders of bar associations, who were often anti-jury, were also “active in urban reform movements and in Mugwump state and national movements.”[138] Preferring the expert judge over the popular jury was also in keeping with the respect for specialization and expertise held by the burgeoning progressive movement.[139]

Also driving concern about the jury, on the criminal rather than civil side, was the growing concern, noted in Section II.A, about serious crime and the perception that juries frequently acquitted wrongdoers.[140] In addition, courts’ dockets were increasingly crowded in the late nineteenth century.[141] Merit-based concerns about the delays and costs of both the criminal and civil justice systems, noted in Section II.B, seem to have been powerful causal factors driving criticism of the jury.

Juries were also thought to be an anachronism in two senses. First, the historical reason for the jury was said to be the people protecting themselves against corrupt, biased, or tyrannical agents of government—paradigmatically, agents of absolutist kings. Men like Taft and Edson Sunderland—a Michigan professor who would go on to be a principal drafter of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure—wrote that in a country where judges were either elected by the people or appointed by democratically-elected officials and where government tyranny was not thought to exist, the original justification for the jury no longer obtained.[142] Blackstone had called the jury the palladium—the safeguard—of liberty.[143] But “[i]n the United States, there is no need of this palladium.”[144]

Second, the jury—ancient, slow, inefficient, and costly—was out of tune with the times. As Judge Coxe put it, “[t]rial by petit jury in its present form is wholly unsuited to the needs of a busy and progressive age.”[145] A Chicago lawyer called it “a relic of a by-gone era.”[146] Juries were said to make the justice system more “expensive” and “cumbersome” and the cause of much delay.[147] As a leading Florida lawyer told the ABA, “[m]odern life seeks results and demands that these results shall be quickly attained, in order that its energies may be released to accomplish more results. It likes accuracy, but it is perfectly content that some accuracy may be sacrificed to obtain speed.”[148] Modern life moved, as Justice Brewer put it, with “the hot haste of a Kansas cyclone.”[149] And in such an age, the jury was a “non-progressive, delay-provoking institution.”[150]

Another factor, though certainly of lesser importance than others, may have been a newly positive view of the Roman-derived civil law tradition, which historically had eschewed the jury. For centuries, dating back before Independence, it had been a staple of American rhetoric to assert that the common law was superior to the civil law. There were always dissenters of course. The early nineteenth century Supreme Court Justice Joseph Story, for example, deeply appreciated the civil law.[151] In the latter part of the nineteenth century, this appreciation became more widespread. Paralleling positive comments by Taft and other colonial administrators in the government after 1898—who engaged deeply with the Spanish civil law legal systems in Cuba, the Philippines, and Puerto Rico—the excellence of the civil law was discussed in law reviews and bar magazines.[152] There was often a caveat, however, that civil law—notably Spanish—criminal procedure needed reform to better protect against abuses by government.[153] Somewhat similarly, many lawyers pointed out that judges competently and fairly decided factual questions in cases on equity, admiralty, and probate dockets, suggesting that laypeople had no monopoly on fact-finding ability.[154]

Driven by this great mix of factors, jury reform or abolition was intensely debated at the end of the nineteenth century and beginning of the twentieth. Newspapers began to report frequently on debates about reform or abolition of juries.[155] Law reviews and other elite magazines were filled with articles with titles like “Should Trials by Jury Be Abolished.”[156] Speakers at the ABA and state and local bar associations incessantly debated whether the jury system should stay or go.[157] At the time, bar associations were largely comprised of elite, urban lawyers.[158] Satirical magazines poked fun at juries and jurors.[159] Political scientists wrote papers and held conferences about the jury’s weaknesses. Law reformers like Pound focused on the jury as a major part of the reason for law’s failures.[160] As one law journal put it in the 1890s:

There is probably no question more frequently mooted at present in the realm of legal discussion than that of the reform or abolition of jury trials. . . . [I]t has been as liberally treated by the lay press as by legal journals and lawyers themselves. . . . There is hardly a bar association meeting held nowadays at which the reform or abolition of the jury system is not made the occasion of animated and often heated discussion.[161]

All phases and aspects of the jury system were panned. In addition to general criticism of grand juries and petit juries in civil and criminal cases, the unanimity requirement, for instance, was widely criticized, particularly in civil matters. It was said to produce delays by creating mistrials, gave a veto to one obstinate, “corrupt,” or “stupid” man,[162] and was contrary to the voting rules used in other American institutions.[163] Some supported getting rid of unanimity in criminal as well as civil cases.[164]

C.  Jury Reform at the State Level

The “quick and active age,” as the U.S. Supreme Court called it, was filled with “progressive growth and wise adaptation” of old procedure “to new circumstances and situations.[165] There were great changes made in both in civil and criminal procedure, many focused on the jury.

Coming out of the Founding period, in essentially all states, both civil and criminal juries were constitutionally guaranteed. But starting in the mid-nineteenth century, many states altered their constitutions to allow parties to waive jury trial in civil cases.[166] During the era of the Insular Cases, most states and the federal courts did not allow criminal defendants to waive a jury trial and be tried by the bench.[167]

By the first decade of the twentieth century, about one quarter of U.S. states had abolished grand juries as a means of initiating prosecutions.[168] Sixteen states—the newer western states comprising a majority of them—allowed juries to be fewer than the twelve people required by the common law and the U.S. Constitution (for federal courts).[169] Fourteen states—again, a majority of them being the western ones—had abolished the rule of unanimity for civil jury verdicts.[170] At least three states had abolished it for criminal juries.[171]

Colorado’s 1876 constitution, for instance, did not guarantee a civil jury.[172] Louisiana’s new constitution of 1898 both failed to guarantee a civil jury trial and allowed the legislature to have criminal cases tried by the bench alone if the penalty were something less than death or imprisonment for a term of years at hard labor.[173] Louisiana, which had a system derived from the civil law as result of being a French and Spanish colony, was the home state of U.S. Supreme Court Justice Edward Douglass White, the driving force behind the doctrine of territorial incorporation in the Insular Cases.

Other changes during this era included state and federal courts expanding the power of judges in civil cases to take cases away from juries by directing verdicts.[174] Contempt orders issued to enforce injunctions became a popular way for conservative federal judges to stop labor strikes, in part, because it avoided juries who might sympathize with strikers if criminal or civil actions were brought at law.[175]

D.  Resistance to Jury Reform

As noted in Section II.A, there were calls for judges to preside over trials without the jury in civil cases at common law, including by Taft in his widely-covered 1905 Yale speech.[176] And some reformers even urged the same method for criminal cases.[177] For instance, George H. Williams, former U.S. Senator, U.S. Attorney General, and judge, urged “the total abolition of jury trials in all our courts.”[178]

But at the same time as the jury was being criticized and reformed, pro-jury measures were also being urged and adopted.[179] The jury in late nineteenth century America was, as Lawrence Friedman observed, “lionized” as well as deeply “mistrusted.”[180] According to Friedman, the average member of the public would “nod in solemn agreement” with high-minded paeans of “the wonders and the fairness” of the traditional jury system, while at the same time wanting “an efficient, effective system” of criminal justice that reliably convicted “dangerous criminals.”[181]

Differing views often tracked a class divide. Members of the elite corporate bar and academics were generally on the anti-jury side, while many of the pro-jury voices were populist reformers in the old Jacksonian mold, small-scale trial lawyers, and state legislators. But some proponents of the old-time jury rules were also the leading lights of the bar. Joseph Choate—one of the country’s most prominent lawyers, a leader of anti-Tweed reform in New York, and ambassador to Great Britain from 18991905—used his annual address as president-elect of the ABA to extol the virtues of the jury and denounce reform proposals.[182] Dwight Foster, former Massachusetts Attorney General and Supreme Judicial Court Justice and son of a Federalist U.S. Senator, enumerated all the many “[a]dvantages of the Jury System” for the North American Review’s highbrow audience.[183]

The modal elite lawyer—if such a person could have been found and polled—probably favored real but not far-reaching reform of the jury. Supreme Court Justice Brewer, for example, castigated “[t]he impatient radical” who promotes far-reaching changes in the jury and spoke in favor of limiting voir dire, abolishing unanimity, and permitting juries of fewer than twelve persons “where lighter offences are charged or the amount in controversy is small.”[184] Judge Coxe called it “idle to advocate the abolition of trial by jury” because the jury’s foundations are too deep in law and history of the people.[185] But he thought that civil cases “involving commercial transactions, expert knowledge, careful mathematical calculations, or the consideration of long and intricate accounts” could be tried to the court alone and that the rule of unanimity should be abolished.[186] George Washington Biddle of Philadelphia extolled the jury in criminal and tort cases in his address to the ABA, but advocated that contract cases be tried to panels of three jurors, selected from the better men in the community.[187] Justice Henry Brown thought the criminal jury was “the best method yet devised for the determination of criminal cases,” but that the unanimity rule should be abolished and that the jury trial was not “well adapted to certain classes of [civil] cases.”[188]

Resistance to reform of the jury was likely caused in part by a deep-seated Burkean conservatism about law and society that was common among elite lawyers of that era. The reigning worldview of many lawyers has been called classical legal orthodoxy, which held, among other things, that law “must be the product of the ideas and life of the people over which it dominates; it must spring from the soil.”[189] According to the influential treatise writer and judge, Thomas Cooley, “the common reason of the people”[190] or the “settled conviction of the people as to what the rule of right and conduct should be” were the only legitimate sources of law.[191] Habit and custom were thus the most important foundations of law.[192]

These views were second nature to elite lawyers of that generation, such as Root and Taft. This view did not exclude reform; it simply meant that reform should try as far as possible to respect a people’s underlying traditions and habits. More than any other legal right that a litigant might invoke, the right to the jury—the right to call upon an institution which constantly and by design brought lay persons into responsible governance roles—necessarily required a close correspondence between law and society. Judges and lawyers alone cannot administer the jury right. The jury could only work if it “spr[a]ng from the soil.”[193] In the United States it did; the jury was viewed by many as a time-honored rite of citizenship and a hallowed protector of liberties. Reform of such an entrenched institution should only occur if serious problems required it.

For thorough-going critics of the jury, skepticism of the jury often accompanied deep faith in judges. Many reforms concerning the jury were explicitly designed to empower judges, such as allowing more directed verdicts in civil cases and permitting parties to waive jury trials. Men like Taft and Root spoke frequently in favor of strong, independent judges who should be unhampered by legislatures in the setting of judicial procedure.[194] But important elements in American society had for some time been pushing in the opposite direction: to increase the power of juries and reduce the power of judges. Starting in about the 1890s, “progressive and populist officials and journalists had been clamoring for judicial recall” in places where judges were not elected.[195] A large number of states adopted rules prohibiting judges from commenting to the jury on the evidence.[196] During the nineteenth century, by statute or constitutional provision, twenty states prohibited this.[197] By judicial decision, another fifteen states adopted the same rule.[198] Some states went further and prohibited judges from charging the jury orally; instead, they were limited to approving written charges offered by lawyers and forwarding them to the jury.[199]

These rules were anathema to people like Root and Taft. The latter complained that “[t]he institution of trial by jury has come to be regarded as fetish to such an extent that state legislatures have exalted the power of the jury and diminished the power of the court.”[200] The result, he said, is that “the questions, both of law and fact, are largely left to the untutored and undisciplined action of the jury, influenced only by the contending arguments of counsel.”[201] Echoing Taft, Justice Henry Brown of the Supreme Court—author of Mankichi and part of the majority in Dorr, the key Insular Cases holding that juries were not constitutionally required in unincorporated territories—complained that “[t]he tendency of modern legislation has been to belittle the functions of the court, and to make of the jury a kind of fetish.”[202]

The debates between these competing views about the merits of juries versus judges played out in Congress, the executive branch, and the new insular governments when the United States set about reforming the judicial systems of Puerto Rico and the Philippines. As will be seen, the views of elite lawyers who were skeptical of the jury were the decisive ones.

III.  Jury Rights in Supreme Court Case Law from the Mainland

During the period of ferment and reform in legal procedure and jury practices, the Supreme Court began to confront arguments by litigants that state-level procedural reforms that departed from the baselines of the common law and the federal Bill of Rights were unconstitutional under the new Fourteenth Amendment. The Court’s responses to these arguments created a set of precedents that were crucial to the resolution of the Insular Cases concerning jury rights, undercutting any contention that racism and notions of cultural inferiority can fully explain the MankichiDorr-Balzac line of Insular Cases, in which the Court held that jury rights were not constitutionally guaranteed in unincorporated territories.[203]

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the Supreme Court rejected the view that is today called “incorporation” of the Bill of Rights: that the Fourteenth Amendment’s Privileges and Immunities Clause and Due Process Clause had the effect of requiring that states comply with the provisions of the Bill of Rights.[204] This modern use of the term, incorporation, is different than how it was used in the Insular Cases, in which it meant Congress acting to make a territory an integral and permanent part of the United States, thus fully extending the Constitution to it.[205]

The Court ruled repeatedly that the Fourteenth Amendment did not require states to adopt the Bill of Rights rules concerning juries, specifically grand juries[206] and civil petit juries in suits at common law.[207] Justice John Marshall Harlan, the strongest opponent of the territorial incorporation doctrine in the Insular Cases, was the only Justice who persistently dissented in these Fourteenth Amendment cases denying jury rights.[208]

Since all states by their own constitutions required criminal petit juries, the Supreme Court never had the opportunity to squarely decide whether this was required, though it stated several times in dicta that it was not.[209] “[T]he requirement of due process does not deprive a State of the power to dispense with jury trial altogether,” the Court stated.[210] In another case, the Court opined that it would not violate the Fourteenth Amendment if a state “should see fit to adopt the civil law and its method of procedure.”[211] In yet a different case, the Court presciently stated that the United States “[i]n the future growth of the nation . . . may see fit to annex territories whose jurisprudence is that of the civil law,” and that the Fourteenth Amendment would allow, if such a territory “enter[ed] the Union” as a state, for its “traditions, laws, and systems of administration [to remain] unchanged.”[212] Although some civil law jurisdictions in Europe had introduced jury trials in some criminal cases by the late nineteenth century,[213] the leading characteristic of civil law criminal procedure was an inquisitorial judicial role that did not use a jury for fact-finding.[214] In addition to this dicta, the Court did squarely hold that it did not violate the Fourteenth Amendment for states to provide, in criminal cases, waiver of jury trials,[215] juries of fewer than the twelve persons required by common law and the Sixth Amendment,[216] or for a judge to decide on the grade of the offense after a defendant pleaded guilty to murder.[217]

In these cases upholding the constitutionality of states’ departures from historical jury practices, there were several important strands of reasoning. First was a textual argument. The Fifth Amendment Due Process Clause was not understood to require any jury rights since those rights were separately provided in other Constitutional provisions.[218] To read the Due Process Clause as an additional guarantor of jury rights would violate the non-surplusage canon.[219] Therefore, the identically-worded Due Process Clause of the new Fourteenth Amendment should not be read to incorporate jury requirements either.[220]

Second was a historical argument. Due process had been understood to require only that judicial procedures follow the law of the land—the standing law of the jurisdiction, whatever it was—as long a few core requirements were met: notice and an opportunity to be heard before an impartial tribunal of competent jurisdiction.[221] No more was required. Sometimes the Court would say, instead of enumerating the core requisites of notice and the like, that Due Process prevents states from violating “those fundamental principles of liberty and justice which lie at the base of all our civil and political institutions.”[222] This understanding that the jury trial was a mere mode of procedure and not a fundamental right was soon applied by the Court in the somewhat different setting of the Insular Cases.[223]

As for the Privileges and Immunities Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, the Court adhered to its holding in the Slaughter-House Cases (1873) [224] that the privileges or immunities of U.S. citizenship protected by the clause had nothing to do with ordinary judicial procedure, but rather included such things as the right “to demand the care and protection of the General Government over his life, liberty[,] and property when on the high seas or within the jurisdiction of a foreign government.”[225]

A vitally important part of the Court’s reasoning in these cases was a desire to allow state-level experimentation and reform of procedure, including jury practices. In its 1884 Hurtado v. California decision holding that the Fourteenth Amendment did not require states to use grand juries, the Court noted that “in this quick and active age,” “progressive growth and wise adaptation to new circumstances and situations” was desirable in criminal procedure.[226] In its 1898 Holden v. Hardy decision holding that criminal juries of fewer than the historic twelve members did not violate the Fourteenth Amendment, the Court opined at length about the need for “progressive” growth and flexibility.[227] “[T]he law is, to a certain extent, a progressive science;” “in some of the States[,] methods of procedure, which at the time the [U.S.] constitution was adopted were deemed essential to the protection and safety of the people, or to the liberty of the citizen, have been found to be no longer necessary.”[228]

A number of states, the Court noted, had abolished grand juries and the rule of jury unanimity in civil cases.[229] The U.S. Constitution was “to a large extent inflexible and exceedingly difficult of amendment,”[230] and so its criminal procedure provisions in the Bill of Rights were likely permanent. But the Court did not want to use the Fourteenth Amendment to apply the Bill of Rights to the states and hence “to deprive the States of the power to so amend their laws as to make them conform to the wishes of the citizens.”[231] In short, states should be free to choose what the Court called “simpler and more expeditious forms of administering justice” than what the Bill of Rights required in federal court.[232] In a 1908 case, the Court declared that “the procedure of the first half of the seventeenth century” should not be “fastened upon the American jurisprudence like a straightjacket, only to be unloosed by constitutional amendment,” because this would render state law “incapable of progress or improvement.”[233]

In these cases, the Court was reflecting, more than leading, elite opinion about the need to facilitate reform of legal procedure and, in particular, jury practice. And as demonstrated in Part II above, skepticism about juries and a desire for fundamental procedural reform were widespread in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuriesincluding among Supreme Court Justices.[234]

IV.  The Jury and Other Individual Rights in the Philippines

The executive, and later Congress, introduced fundamental reforms in the Philippines to better protect individual rights, not only, but especially in the criminal justice process. However, the jury was not introduced. Although there was racism and cultural chauvinism among American policymakers, there is significant evidence that the U.S. government was also proceeding in a good faith effort to introduce the legal system that would best conform to the traditions and customs of the people of the Philippines, while protecting fundamental rights. In Dorr, the Supreme Court would ratify Washington’s decision to omit the jury, while granting most other rights found in the Constitution to residents of the Philippines.

A.  The Period of Military-Executive Government

Early in the period of U.S. military rule, which started in 1898, a fact-finding group was created by President McKinley and sent to the Philippines. The group, led by Jacob Schurman, the president of Cornell University, ultimately recommended in January 1900 that the United States institute an American “scheme [of territorial] government” like the one used in Louisiana in 1804, but with greater local self-government.[235] The Schurman Commission further recommended that Congress provide by statute that “no law shall be valid which is inconsistent with the Constitution and laws of the United States,” and that criminal and civil jury trials be introduced.[236] But different plans were being made in Washington.

Soon after he was appointed Secretary of War, Elihu Root released in November 1899 a public report setting forth the administration’s legal policy toward the islands. Root’s report announced that “the people of the islands have no right . . . to assert a legal right under the provisions of the constitution which was established for the people of the United States themselves and to meet the conditions existing upon this continent.”[237] Any U.S. military or executive officials who had taken the position that the Constitution was applicable in the new territories were overruled. Also implicitly overruled was the Schurman Commission, whose final report recommending application of the Constitution in the Philippines was then under preparation.

Root told a correspondent that one of his fundamental premises was that “the basis upon which we should proceed in these islands is to be found in the customs and business and social life of the islanders themselves,” and not in “the common law”—on which the criminal procedure guarantees of the Bill of Rights were based—which is “the customs, etc., of New England or Nebraska.”[238]

Root also opined in his 1899 report that:

The people of the ceded islands have acquired a moral right to be treated by the United States in accordance with the underlying principles of justice and freedom which we have declared in our Constitution, and which are the essential safeguards of every individual against the powers of government, not because those provisions were enacted for them, but because they are essential limitations inherent in the very existence of the American Government. . . . [The people] are entitled to demand that they shall not be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law, that private property shall not be taken for public use without [just] compensation, that no law shall be passed impairing the obligation of contracts, etc., because our nation has declared these to be the rights belonging to all men. . . . It is impossible that there should be any delegation of power by the people of the United States to any legislative, executive, or judicial officer which should carry the right to violate these rules toward anyone anywhere.[239]

Root’s enunciation of fundamental limitations on the power of government closely paralleled the fundamental rights protected by then-current U.S. constitutional law. Both the federal government and the states were bound to provide due process of law,[240] and the Supreme Court had just two years earlier held that due process is violated if a state government takes private property for public use without paying just compensation.[241] The same rule bound the federal government through the Fifth Amendment’s Takings Clause.

Root recommended that insular governments should be created “subject to limitations prescribed by Congress of the same character as the constitutional limitations generally imposed upon our state legislatures.”[242] Because U.S. state constitutions generally paralleled the federal Bill of Rights in their limitations upon government, Root was in effect recommending a statutory bill of rights. He praised “[t]he civil code established by Spain for Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines” as “an excellent body of laws, adequate in the main, and adapted to the customs and conditions of the people.”[243] Reform was needed in procedure, however, “[i]n order to secure a good administration of the laws.”[244]

In April 1900, President McKinley appointed a second Philippine Commission to actually institute civil government. His orders to the Commission, which were published in the press, required the Commission to create a government that conformed as much as possible to the Filipino’s own “customs, . . . habits, and even their prejudices,” but also to “certain great principles of government which have been made the basis of our governmental system, which we deem essential to the rule of law and the maintenance of individual freedom.”[245] There should be no surprise that this tracked the views of Root and Taft, for they were the authors, with Root writing the first draft.[246] The instructions document then continued in the same vein as Root’s 1899 report had; the President ordered the Commission to create a government which, at every level, division, or branch, respected “inviolable rules”:

That no person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law; that private property shall not be taken for public use without just compensation; that in all criminal prosecutions the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation, to be confronted with the witnesses against him, to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense; that excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishment inflicted; that no person shall be put twice in jeopardy for the same offense or be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself; that the right to be secure against unreasonable searches and seizures shall not be violated; that neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall exist except as punishment for crime; that no bill of attainder or ex post facto law shall be passed; that no law shall be passed abridging the freedom of speech or of the press or of the rights of the people to peaceably assemble and petition the government for a redress of grievances; that no law shall be made respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, and that the free exercise and enjoyment of religious profession and worship without discrimination or preference shall forever be allowed.[247]

Taft was proud of the document because, he said, it “secured to the Philippine people all the guaranties of our Bill of Rights except trial by jury and the right to bear arms.”[248] The document did not state that the Constitution itself protected the Filipino people. Root had previously opined that the Constitution itself—as distinguished from the inviolable, great moral principles of free government found in it—did not apply in the new territories.[249] And Root’s view had become the official position of the executive branch.[250]

In the meantime, the U.S. army had been busy fighting an insurrection in the Philippines. After the United States more or less destroyed a traditional military organization led by Filipino general Emilio Aguinaldo in 1899, a second phase of the insurgency began—a guerrilla war in remote areas of the archipelago.[251] Starting in late 1900, U.S. tactics became increasingly harsh, including waterboarding for interrogation, the summary execution of captured insurgents, and collective punishment of villages that harbored them.[252] But the core parts of the Philippines, where about 75 percent of the population lived, were quiet, and the U.S. government moved to establish civilian rule there.

The army in the Philippines almost immediately decided that it must reform the administration of justice. Spanish criminal procedure—a civil law product—effectively put the burden of proof on the criminal defendant, required the defendant to give testimony, and had limited mechanisms for procuring testimony of defense witnesses.[253] During the inquisitorial or “sumario” phase of a criminal proceeding, witnesses selected by the government were interviewed in secret and outside the presence of the accused or defense counsel.[254] The resulting transcripts were used as evidence in the judicial finding of guilt or innocence.[255] Hearsay was “freely admitted,” while family and employees of the accused were barred from testifying.[256] Lengthy pre-conviction detentions—sometimes lasting years—were common.[257] In the view of many American lawyers who went to the Philippines, the criminal process under the Spanish codes and rules was so lengthy and “red tape was so interminable as to amount practically to a denial of justice.”[258] “[T]he impecunious accused was thought to have no chance as against the law’s delay.”[259] The paper requirement of a speedy trial was “universally abused,” and no remedy similar to habeas corpus existed.[260] Widespread corruption by Spanish-era judges and other officials was alleged.[261] Judges were not independent of the executive.[262]

The military introduced many familiar American concepts to reform criminal procedure, but not the jury. General Orders 58 (“G.O. 58”) was issued in April 1900 under the authority of the commanding general and U.S. military governor in the Philippines.[263] The order remained, even after civil authority took over from military, the Philippines’ “Code of Criminal Procedure.”[264] By design, G.O. 58 was simple and brief. There was “a crying need” for a “simpler and speedier” mode of criminal procedure, as former Nebraska law professor turned Philippine judge Charles Lobingier put it.[265] An Army lawyer in the Philippines noted that G.O. 58 eschewed technicalities found in U.S. law and called it “nothing less than a declaration of war on the time-fortified, justice-thwarting technicalities and methodism of common law criminal procedure.”[266] Procedure under G.O. 58 proved in practice “simplified and highly effective.”[267] At a time when “public opinion, led by thoughtful men of the legal profession” are, in the United States, demanding “radical procedural reform in the field of criminal law,” the Philippine example was thought to be instructive.[268]

G.O. 58 announced a great number of familiar rights for criminal defendants. Defendants had a right to notice of the nature of the offense charged, personal presence and assistance of counsel “at every stage of the proceedings,” to be confronted in court by any adverse witnesses, and to compulsory process for securing attendance of defense witnesses.[269] Any competent person could be a defense witness.[270] There was a privilege against self-incrimination and its associated ban on drawing adverse inferences from the failure of the defendant to testify.[271] Trials had to be “speedy and public.”[272] The defendant was “presumed to be innocent until the contrary [was] proved” beyond a “reasonable doubt.”[273] At arraignment, a defendant was told of his right to counsel and, if “unable to employ counsel, the court [was required to] assign counsel to defend him.”[274] This supplemented an 1899 general order of the military governor establishing a procedure for appointment of counsel for indigent defendants, which also prohibited appointed counsel from demanding any fees from those who “have the right to be defended as a poor persons.[275] G.O. 58 protected against double jeopardy.[276] All offenses were bailable except capital crimes “when proof of guilt [was] evident or the presumption of guilt [was] strong,” as found by the court at a preliminary examination.[277] The right of habeas corpus was guaranteed to “[e]very person unlawfully imprisoned or restrained of his liberty under any pretence whatever.”[278] Search warrants could only issue under oath if probable cause were established and had to satisfy Fourth Amendment-type particularity requirements.[279] When the civilian government took over civil authority from the military governor, the Philippine Commission, headed by Taft, left the Army’s criminal procedure code intact.[280]

B.  Decision-Making About the Jury in the Philippines

Root and Taft, supported by President McKinley, had already decided and implied in the Instructions document of spring 1900 that the jury would not be introduced in the Philippines. But a significant period of fact-finding and debate was still to come, as both the Schurman Commission and then a second Philippine Commission headed by Taft held extensive hearings in the Philippines. Meanwhile, the U.S. Congress debated what kind of organic act of government it should create for the islands. If there had been very strong support for the jury in either the Philippines or Washington DC, things might have turned out differently. But there was not.

American officials were not being pressed hard for jury trial by the Filipinos they consulted during the early years when the key choices about legal architecture and extension of the Constitution were first made. In 1900, a group of “[t]he most influential and honorable natives,” identified as leaders of a nascent “Autonomy Party,” indicated to the Schurman Commission that they did not oppose introduction of a legal code lacking jury rights.[281] A Spanish lawyer who had relocated to Manila about twelve years before the Americans came, told the Schurman Commission that he thought jury trials would be desirable in criminal but not civil cases, and was concerned that “the people would have to be educated to be fit to serve as jurymen.”[282] But a leading Filipino lawyer in the islands, Cayetano Arrellano y Lonzón, who was chief justice of the Philippine Supreme Court from 1901 to 1920, was of the view that Filipinos were not ready for jury trial.[283] In 1902, Taft, who had been in the Philippines for about a year by that time, asserted that U.S. policymakers, who had been holding hearings and conducting fact-finding, had “found no person desiring [trial by jury] at present even among the people of the Islands.”[284] Filipino lawyers seemed to favor some procedural reform, but did not want a wholesale uprooting of the civil law system to which they were accustomed.[285]

The first organized and active political party after the American takeover, the Federal Party, which mainly represented pro-American elites and was co-founded by Arrellano, held conventions and published detailed policy recommendations and party platforms starting in 1900. It did not advocate the adoption of the jury trial.[286] Spain had introduced the criminal jury at home in the late nineteenth century, but had refused to extend the institution to its colonies like Puerto Rico and the Philippines.[287] This could have been a source of complaint by Filipinos, if they desired the jury trial, but it does not seem to have been. In 1898, a revolutionary Filipino Congress wrote a constitution for their proclaimed independent state. This Malolos Constitution mostly copied constitutional guarantees found in constitutions of civil law countries and did not contain a jury trial right.[288]

During the early years when U.S. policy was being set, Taft spoke repeatedly to Congress and the U.S. public against the jury trial in the Philippines. Senator Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts, the administration leader on the issue in the U.S. Senate, credited Taft with persuading the Senate Committee on the Philippines that the jury trial was not at that time appropriate for the Philippines.[289] As Taft noted, “the population has had no experience with the jury system.”[290] This was a very important point for Taft, Root, and other elite lawyers whose worldview was shaped by the reigning classical legal orthodoxy. The jury did not “spring from the soil;”[291] the Philippines had been an autocratic society with essentially no self-government by the people and an inquisitorial, judge-controlled, paper-based legal system.[292]

Taft, who we have seen in mainland U.S. issues was a strong believer in judges, repeated in his many public statements that U.S. efforts had created a robust insular court system and that issues of both fact and law could be appealed to the Supreme Court of the Philippines in any case.[293] He pointed out that, at most, 10 percent of the population could speak or write Spanish (the then-language of the judicial system) and referred to the remaining 90 plus percent as “densely ignorant, very superstitious, very timid and with most indifferently developed political ideas of any kind.”[294]

Taft’s most commonly voiced explanation for opposing the jury in the Philippines concerned the people’s attitudes toward the government. He believed uneducated Filipinos:

have too great respect for the local authority of the wealthy or educated men owning land in their neighborhood. They are subject, therefore, to being led by the misrepresentations and threats of ambitious or unprincipled agitators of the better class. They have no idea of government except that of the absolute rule of somebody over them.[295]

He was referring to the outsized influence of a class of people often called caciques, local leaders who were generally landowners, employers, social arbiters, and political bosses rolled into one.[296] Even among the educated class, Taft opined, “there is not yet developed that sense of impartial justice which a people must have in some slight degree in order to make it safe that there should be a popular tribunal like that of a jury.”[297] As Taft explained in 1904, “[i]t is the failure to identify themselves with the Government as part of it, and as responsible for its proper administration, that renders the great body of the Filipino people at present unfit for complete self-government and the introduction of the system of jury trial.”[298] Without a “sense of responsibility for the government” and “identification with the government,” jurors “are certain always to release the prisoner and to sympathize with him in the prosecution against him.”[299] Sometimes Taft expressed this thought in the racialized language of his era:

Manifestly such a tribunal [the jury] would have no place among an ignorant people, or indeed, even among a people who are somewhat educated, if they have not inculcated in them a sense of responsibility for, and of sharing in, the government. Such people are likely to prove unworthy jurors and to be affected in all their verdicts by their emotions and by every other motive than that which should control them, to wit: the well-being of society. It is this sense of justice which is implanted naturally in the Anglo-Saxon breast, but which is absent in the Porto Rican and the Filipino.[300]

Taft did not usually revert to racial essentialism, however, to explain his position on the inadvisability of the jury. He indicated to the Senate that he believed it was “the character of Spanish justice heretofore”—an arbitrary and corrupt system that gave the Filipino people no role in self-government—that explained their purported inability to identify themselves with the government and the well-being of society generally.[301] In another instance, Taft stated that the reason we don’t give them jury trial is because the people have not yet the sense of governmental responsibility, without which jury trial is a farce.”[302]

In his discussion of the jury system for Filipinos, Taft was repeating almost exactly the criticisms of jurors and the jury system in the United States that he, Root, Pound, and other elite lawyers and progressive academics had so often voiced.[303] It is hard to escape the conclusion that, when the politics and constitutional law applicable to the situation gave lawyers like Taft a relatively free hand to devise a justice system in the Philippines, they instituted the kind of system they would have liked to see in the mainland United States: no juries, strong judges, and simple, efficient procedure. The framing premise of Taft’s famous “disgrace to our civilization” speech about the failures of American criminal justice was that Americans would benefit, as Taft had, by closer acquaintance with the civil law tradition and its different, more efficient methods of judicial procedure.[304]

C.  Congress’s 1902 Organic Act

As the insurrection in the Philippines began to resolve in 1901, the U.S. Congress considered enacting an organic act creating a civil government. During the legislative process leading to the Organic Act, some opposition (Democratic and Populist) politicians objected to the lack of provision for the jury in the Philippines.[305] Some of this criticism may have been sincere; however, as noted above, many opponents of the administration’s colonial policy were motivated by racism and xenophobia[306] and raised constitutional issues solely for the strategic purpose of making it difficult to retain the Philippines as an American possession.

Congress enacted the so-called Philippine Bill (Philippine Organic Act) in July 1902.[307] The act ratified the president’s creation of the Philippine Commission, which possessed executive and legislative powers and was headed by a civil governor (then Taft).[308] The act also provided that, two years after the rebellion ended, elections would be held for a general assembly to serve as the lower house of the legislature, while the Philippine Commission would constitute the upper legislative house and, at the same time, continue serving as the executive cabinet of the governor.[309] The Philippine Supreme Court, courts of first instance, and municipal courts were continued.[310] And the U.S. Supreme Court was given jurisdiction over final decisions of the Philippine Supreme Court, including in cases which any “right, or privilege” under “the Constitution . . . [was] involved.”[311]

The Organic Act specifically disclaimed application of the U.S. Constitution in the Philippines.[312] But the Act included an extensive statutory bill of rights that largely duplicated the exact wording of the individual rights provisions of the U.S. Constitution.[313] There was no mention of rights to a grand jury or petit jury. The Second and Third Amendments were omitted.[314] And there were a few rights provided for that were not found in the U.S. Constitution, namely a guarantee of bail in all but capital cases and a ban on imprisonment for debt.[315] Early on, the U.S. Supreme Court decreed that provisions of the statutory bill of rights in the Organic Act would be interpreted to have an identical scope to analogous provisions of the U.S. Constitution.[316]

 D.  The Mankichi and Dorr Cases: Jury Is Not Constitutionally Required in Unincorporated Territory

The first Insular Cases concerning jury rights reached the U.S. Supreme Court in 1903 and 1904. The first case, Hawaii v. Mankichi, concerned a criminal conviction obtained in 1899 in the local courts of Hawaii, without a grand jury and with a non-unanimous petit jury, during the time between the U.S. annexation of the island in 1898 and Congress’s act in 1900 formally incorporating it into the union and extending the Constitution.[317] Both the Court and the executive branch were aware that this case would likely set the constitutional rule applicable to the unincorporated territories of Puerto Rico and the Philippines.

The U.S. brief to the Supreme Court first stressed policy—did the Supreme Court want to release every criminal convicted during that interregnum period simply because the ordinary Hawaiian justice system remained in place pending Congress’s actions?[318] On the constitutional question, the government conceded that under Downes v. Bidwell, the leading Insular Case from 1901, “there are certain limitations of the Constitution which apply to every place subject to the jurisdiction of the United States.”[319] So the U.S. government was not arguing that Hawaiians lacked constitutional rights from the moment of annexation.

Instead, the Solicitor General relied on the Supreme Court case law arising under the Fourteenth Amendment, which had held that U.S. state governments were not mandated by the Due Process Clause or the Privileges and Immunities Clause to use petit juries or grand juries, since those were “not fundamental” rights, but mere methods of procedure.[320] The rule for Hawaii prior to incorporation into the union should, the United States argued, be the same as it was for U.S. states.

The Court sided with the U.S. government. Citing its case law that held that the Fourteenth Amendment did not require U.S. states to use grand juries or twelve-man criminal petit juries, the Court held that the jury rights asserted “are not fundamental in their nature, but concern merely a method of procedure.”[321] The Court also determined that, by annexing Hawaii, Congress had not intended to “imperil[ ] the peace and good order of the islands” by holding all criminal convictions without a grand jury or twelve-man petit jury to be unconstitutional.[322] Justice White concurred on the ground that the mere annexation had not incorporated Hawaii into the union and the jury rights that would be required once incorporation occurred, in 1900, were not yet in force in 1899 when Mr. Mankichi was tried and convicted.[323]

The next year brought the case Dorr v. United States from the Philippines, which would determine whether the lack of a criminal jury trial in territorial courts violated the Constitution.[324] The U.S. brief was measured and merits-based, like the brief in Mankichi. The Solicitor General repeated arguments made by Taft, Root, and others: Trial by jury is “entirely unknown” to Filipinos.[325] Instead, they have a bench trial system which is “time-honored,” “familiar to the people,” and “perfectly adequate to all the demands of justice.”[326] Unlike in Spanish times, the Solicitor General wrote, the judiciary is independent and the people have all modern criminal procedure protections except jury rights.[327]

The U.S. brief then deployed the same argument as in Mankichi: since jury rights were declared “not fundamental” and not required for U.S. states, the same rule should apply in unincorporated territories. The Holden and Hurtado decisions, discussed in Part III, were quoted at length.[328] It was Holden in which the Court had presciently stated, in February 1898, just weeks before the Spanish-American War started, that the United States “[i]n the future growth of the nation . . . may see fit to annex territories whose jurisprudence is that of the civil law” and that the Constitution should be interpreted to allow, if such a territory “enter[ed] the Union” as a state, for its “traditions, laws[,] and systems of administration [to remain] unchanged.”[329] This passage had also been quoted as the conclusion of the Attorney General’s main brief to the Court in the 1901 Insular Cases.[330]

The United States’ brief in Dorr did make an ethnocentric and patronizing comment: jury trial should not be required for a “heterogeneous population bred to a different method [of trial] and containing many primitive tribes inhabiting remote and unsettled districts.”[331] But the bulk of the argument proceeded along merits-based lines, noting the need to keep legal institutions tied to the customs of a people, the non-fundamental nature of the jury protection, and the need to allow criminal procedure to depart from a common law baseline when circumstances showed that other methods would be more efficient.

The Court sided with the United States again. In Dorr, the Court confirmed that the Philippines was unincorporated territory, where only “fundamental” constitutional rights applied.[332] Quoting Mankichi, the Court reiterated that the jury and grand jury were not fundamental rights, but mere methods of procedure.[333] The Court found that the President and Congress had decided not to extend jury rights to the Philippines because “the civilized portion of the islands had a system of jurisprudence founded upon the civil law,” which did not use juries, while “the uncivilized parts of the archipelago were wholly unfitted to exercise the right of trial by jury.”[334] The Court rejected any argument that a bench trial—joined with every criminal procedure right in the U.S. Constitution except the jury, as provided by G.O. 58 and the Congress’s Organic Act—was not “an adequate and efficient method of protecting the rights of the accused.”[335]

E.  Subsequent Debate in the Philippines About the Jury

In the first years of U.S. rule, the lack of jury in the Philippines was protested in the United States by Democrat politicians, anti-imperialists, and some U.S. citizens living in the Philippines.[336] Notably, in the period 19021920, all of the cases heard by the Philippine Supreme Court in which litigants demanded jury rights involved U.S. citizens temporarily or permanently relocated there.[337]

As a kind of sop to those who advocated the use of petit juries, the Philippine Commission introduced the use of lay “assessors;at the request of parties in civil and criminal trials, two lay people could be selected by the judge to hear evidence and give non-binding opinions on the facts to the trial judge.[338] But as one judge reported in 1914, based on his experience on the Philippine bench since 1901, that right “has rarely been exercised.”[339] And according to the judge, “[n]ever in the islands’ history have property and life been more secure than today throughout the breadth of the islands,” “nor has justice been so equitably administered.”[340]

There was some native Filipino advocacy in favor of the jury trial, but upon examination, it appears to be rather insignificant. In 1907, the Nacionalista Party won a majority of seats in the new lower house of the Philippine Assembly. The Philippine Commission was still the upper house of the legislature, so the bicameralism requirement gave it a veto over bills from the Assembly. The Nacionalista Party advocated “independence, freedom to carry arms, jury trials, [and] a readjustment of the native members of the Philippine Commission so as to give the Nationalists representation on the commission.”[341] The Nacionalista-dominated Assembly passed a jury bill in 1908, which was promptly vetoed by a unanimous Commission. James Le Roy, who spent several years in the Philippines as a secretary to the Commission, reported that:

[t]here is some agitation in the islands for jury trial, and it found expression in the first session of the Assembly. It is, however, political in character; some Filipinos who have vague ideas about the workings of jury trial advocate it, because they suppose it to be an essential accompaniment of self-government and therefore desire it as a new political right for their people.[342]

This view—though rather ungenerous—seems plausible given the clearly problematic jury bill that was produced by the Assembly.[343]

From what I can learn, no other jury bill was introduced in the insular legislature during the time period under consideration. According to one mainland American who was a judge in a Philippine court of first instance, “[t]here is today [1913] no demand from any important sources in the islands for the establishment of the jury system.”[344] When Congress revisited the question of civil rights of Filipinos in what became the Jones Act of 1916, the suggestion of some U.S. congressmen that jury trial should be extended to the Philippines was opposed with the assistance of the Filipino Resident Commissioner, Manuel Quezon, the most powerful politician in the islands. He based his objection “on the fact that under the Philippine legal system the Filipinos had never had occasion to exercise the right of jury trials, and that in certain backward communities in the Islands it would be very difficult to secure qualified jurors.”[345]

The individual rights provisions of the Philippine Organic Act were repeated in the 1916 Jones Act (Philippines), and jury rights were again omitted.[346] The sponsor of the legislation, Representative William Jones, a Virginia Democrat and chairman of the Committee on Insular Affairs, stated that Congress was pleased with the Philippine court system as it was, and would defer to the Filipino legislature to decide whether to introduce the jury trial.[347] He added that “there is no demand on the part of the Filipinos for jury trials. There has been none on the part of the Filipino bar.”[348]

Mainland Americans who worked in the Philippines often praised the Philippine judicial system and administration of justice for having “greater d[i]spatch, economy, and efficiency than in the States.”[349] According to one writer, the “facility and economy in the administration of justice in the Philippines is due in large measure . . . to the fact that justice is administered by the judge alone without the intervention of a jury.”[350] A Texas attorney who spent over a decade practicing in Philippine courts unqualifiedly endorsed non-jury trials: “I believe that fewer innocent men suffer and less guilty ones go free in the Philippines than in [the United States],” he claimed. [351] The jury system “is slow, unreliable and does not gain the same results.[352]

In 1934, Congress authorized the Philippines to draft its own constitution, as a step toward independence after a transitional period.[353] The 1935 Constitution contained a bill of rights, but no right to a jury.[354] The Philippine Constitutional Convention had reached “consensus that the Philippine judicial system did not require this provision [jury trial] to safeguard the rights of the individual.”[355]

V.  The Jury and Other Individual Rights in Puerto Rico

Although they were both unincorporated territories and thus subject to the same constitutional rules, Puerto Rico and the Philippines were treated very differently by U.S. policymakers from the beginning. The prospect of permanently annexing and assimilating the Philippines into the union was anathema to large segments of the American public. But as noted, it was widely assumed that Puerto Rico would become a permanent part of the United States. Unlike in the Philippines, there was no rebellion against U.S. rule in Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico was relatively close to the United States. And in 1900, the U.S. Census declared that a majority of the population was white, which no doubt helped a very racially-conscious American public feel more comfortable about Puerto Rico’s connection to the United States.[356]

As a result of these and other differences, Puerto Rico was governed with a much lighter hand from Washington than was the Philippines. Starting in 1900, an elected Puerto Rican legislative assembly wielded real political power. While U.S. policymakers still argued that Puerto Rico was unincorporated territory and that constitutional jury rights were not applicable there, they did not object much when the jury was introduced in Puerto Rico from the outset by local judicial and legislative action. As in the Philippines, the local population was protected by almost all of the same rights found in the U.S. Constitution, but via statute or rule, rather than direct application of the Constitution itself.

A.  The Period of U.S. Army Rule

The U.S. Army ruled Puerto Rico from 1898 until the spring of 1900, when a congressionally-created civil government was inaugurated.[357] In Puerto Rico, the U.S. military government found “great difficulties and delays attendant upon criminal and civil trials”[358]—just as it had in the Philippines. The Army engaged in a limited reorganization of the insular court system, leaving a supreme court, five district courts, and a municipal court in each town.[359] Lawyers of the U.S. military found that many charged with crimes, even petty ones, languished in jail for long periods of time without trial; there were also many complaints of arrests without charges and illegally severe punishments by the insular courts.[360]

For a time after U.S. rule began, the government was still largely staffed by Spanish-era officials.[361] The U.S. Army Judge Advocate in Puerto Rico recommended immediate reform of criminal procedure, requiring, among other things, that all trials be public, that trials for petty theft be conducted within three days of arrest, and that defendants have compulsory process to secure their witnesses.[362] But the holdover justice ministry in Puerto Rico opposed these reforms, so the U.S. military took another route and introduced habeas corpus.[363] A military order vested the power to issue the writ of habeas corpus in insular courts, which were still staffed by holdover judges from the prior regime, U.S. military commissions, and post commanders.[364] Some Spanish-era judges and executive officials informed U.S. officials that they agreed with many of the Army’s criticisms of the criminal procedure and the plans to reform it.[365] The military considered it important to replicate the American system on the island, whereby the courts are “absolutely independent of all executive interference or control.”[366]

B.  Congressional and Insular Legislation

1.  The Foraker Act for Puerto Rico

Starting in 1899, Congress began considering what form of government to enact for Puerto Rico and what its constitutional status would be. In January 1900, the commanding general of Puerto Rico, George Davis, told the Senate that he was opposed to “a radical change” in the legal codes of Puerto Rico. He believed that:

[T]he attempt to utilize the jury system in Puerto Rico should not now be made. They have no conception of it, and can have none for many years, it seems to me. I think it would be imprudent to attempt to establish the grand jury and petit jury and trial by jury throughout these municipalities and remote districts in that ignorant population.[367]

The military governors and Root agreed that Puerto Ricans were not yet fit for self-government. “[I]t is a matter not of intellectual apprehensions,” Root announced, “but of character and of acquired habits of thought and feeling.”[368]

President McKinley appointed a three-member Insular Commission to travel to Puerto Rico to gather facts and make recommendations. Like the Schurman Commission in the Philippines, the Insular Commission proved to be out-of-step with the views of U.S. policymakers. It recommended entirely abrogating Spanish era laws and extending in its place the common law, the U.S. Constitution, and U.S. statutes to the extent “locally applicable.”[369] While proposing no jury in insular courts, it recommended the creation of a separate federal court with a jury in felony criminal cases and on demand by either party in civil cases.[370] Henry G. Curtis, the chairman of the Insular Commission, told the Senate in January 1900 that his Commission thought that “the people were not ready” for jury trial; it would be a “farce” to impose jury trial in Puerto Rico with its “ignorant peons.”[371]

A more sympathetic account of the Puerto Rican people was produced by Henry K. Carroll, who was sent by President McKinley as a special Treasury Department agent and commissioner to investigate conditions in the island and make recommendations.[372] During his meetings with numerous Puerto Rican judges and lawyers in 1898 and 1899, Carroll acted as a kind of proselytizer for the extension of the Constitution, the jury system, and U.S. citizenship; his official report recommended all these measures.[373] Some, but not all, of Carroll’s interlocutors agreed with him. Herminio Diaz, the Secretary of Justice under Spanish rule, favored jury trial for serious crimes.[374] Alfredo Arnaldo, a judge in the court of first instance at Arecibo, strongly favored the jury because the Spanish penal system, particularly its procedure, “could not be worse” and, “as we are entering a period of more upright administration of justice, the people should administer their own justice.”[375] Alfredo Aguayo, a judge in the court of first instance at Ponce, also favored the jury as part of a larger criminal procedure reform to end abuses like incommunicado detention and secret trials.[376] But the senior judge under the old regime, Chief Justice José Servero Quiñones, testified to Carroll that the people were not “sufficiently well educated” for the jury system, and that he preferred factfinding by “trained legal criterion” conducted by professional judges.[377] Carroll replied that, “[t]here are many in the United States who agree with you that the judges, who are trained lawyers and who are generally impartial men, are more likely to give a correct judgment in many criminal cases than a jury.”[378] Other witnesses before Carroll agreed with Quiñones.[379]

In spring 1900, after a long period of debate—most of it behind the scenes—Congress enacted an organic act for Puerto Rico, popularly known by the name of its Senate sponsor, Taft’s Ohio patron, Joseph Foraker.[380] Consistent with the prevailing view of Root, Taft, and other elite lawyers imbued with classical legal orthodoxy that law should conform as far as possible to the traditions and customs of a people, Foraker’s committee announced its purpose “[t]o avoid as far as possible radical changes in the laws,” but to “make such modifications and alterations as are necessary to dispense with the most objectionable features of Spanish government and judicial administration.”[381]

The Foraker Act created an insular government composed of: a governor appointed by the president, with advice and consent of the U.S. Senate; a ten-member executive council, which also functioned as the upper house of the insular legislature, again, appointed by the president with advice and consent of the Senate, but limited by the stipulation that at least five members of the council “shall be native inhabitants of Porto Rico;” and an elected house of delegates, the lower house of the legislative assembly.[382]

A United States district court for the district of Puerto Rico was created. It was an Article I court (no life tenure for the judge), granted the same jurisdiction as district and circuit courts sitting on the mainland, and directed to “proceed therein in the same manner as a circuit court.”[383] The Supreme Court soon read this provision as requiring that the U.S. district court in Puerto Rico follow the procedure of U.S. circuit courts to mandate the use of grand juries and petit juries in civil and criminal cases.[384] Therefore, grand juries, civil juries, and criminal juries were used there from the beginning.[385] As Christina Ponsa-Kraus has noted, the Supreme Court never held that constitutional jury rights were inapplicable in the federal court in Puerto Rico.[386] The Foraker Act also gave the district court the power to issue writs of habeas corpus “in all cases in which the same are grantable by the judges of the district and circuit courts of the United States.”[387]

The local court system, as reorganized by the U.S. military, was continued in force by the Foraker Act, with a Supreme Court, several district courts, and local or municipal courts. The Supreme Court had the same authority to issue writs of habeas corpus as did the United States district court. The Foraker Committee approved of how U.S. military reforms had “greatly simplified” the judicial system and made it “more effective and less expensive.”[388]

The Foraker Act did not speak to whether the Constitution was applicable in Puerto Rico, but it did grant the U.S. Supreme Court jurisdiction to review judgments in cases arising in the U.S. district court or the insular Supreme Court, in which a claimed right under the Constitution, a U.S. treaty, or a congressional statute was denied.[389] There was no bill of rights in the Foraker Act.

Senator Foraker had initially favored including a provision extending the Constitution to Puerto Rico and granting citizenship to its residents.[390] As Judge José Cabranes has shown, the bill was changed due to concerns expressed by the administration and some members of Congress that U.S. government actions for Puerto Rico would be taken as precedents for the Philippines.[391] While American policymakers and much of the public were comfortable with keeping Puerto Rico permanently, the opposite was the case with the Philippines, so the provisions extending the Constitution and granting citizenship were removed.[392] Senators stated that the Constitution “is not suited to the Porto Rican people,” and “not necessary” for them.[393] Some of the Senators expressed the opinion that the natives of the island were not yet prepared for jury trials.”[394]

The Foraker Committee report asserted that “it is within the constitutional power of Congress to either extend or withhold the Constitution . . . as it may deem advisable.[395] Congress “is not bound, for instance, to require trial by jury in criminal cases, nor in civil suits at common law.”[396] Although the Constitution was not applicable, the Foraker Committee opined—along the lines that Root had—that Congress was nevertheless bound by certain “restraints and prohibitions,” so that it could not establish religion, prohibit its free exercise, impair the obligation of contracts, pass ex post facto laws or bills of attainder, allow slavery, abridge the freedom of speech, or take property without due process.[397]

2.  The Puerto Rico Legislative Assembly

Unlike in the Philippines, where Congress itself crafted a bill of rights, the new government of Puerto Rico was left to decide for itself what rights to protect by statute. From its first moments, the Puerto Rico Legislative Assembly took important actions to secure the civil rights of the inhabitants. The first act it passed gave criminal defendants the right to demand a jury trial for any capital crime and any charge carrying a sentence of two or more years of imprisonment.[398] This was a narrower right than what the U.S. Constitution provided because only petty offenses are excepted from the criminal jury requirement of the Sixth Amendment and Article III.[399] The jury measure was advocated by President McKinley’s appointee as the first governor of Puerto Rico, Charles Allen, in his inaugural address:

I believe you will find it expedient to adopt the institution of trial by jury without great delay. It will be a radical innovation, yet will carry with it the weight of generations of experience in lands where the liberty of the citizen i[s] most sacredly guarded. That the people may study its operation, it occurs to me that it may well be restricted for a time to criminal cases where the charge against the accused requires, if he is convicted, long term in the penitentiary, or capital punishment. With a prudent law for the selection of the jury, so as to insure jury panels which include good citizens who have tangible material interests in the government, I believe great good will follow from the experiment.[400]

Washington policymakers did not veto this move by Allen. The reach of the jury right was later changed slightly, when it was made applicable to felony casescrimes punishable by death or imprisonment in the penitentiary.[401] All other crimes were misdemeanors. In 1919, the Assembly extended jury rights to misdemeanors.[402] Therefore, from 1919, Puerto Rican courts guaranteed almost precisely the same criminal petit jury rights as mainland federal courts.

In a January 1901 criminal procedure reform statute, the 1902 “Act to Define the Rights of the People,” and the 1902 Code of Criminal Procedure, the Puerto Rico Assembly granted most of the same rights as were found in the U.S. Constitution and mainland case law interpreting it.[403] The First and Fourth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution were duplicated.[404] A twelve-person unanimous jury was guaranteed in felony cases.[405] The defendant was presumed innocent, and charges were required to be proved beyond a reasonable doubt.[406] There were protections against double jeopardy, a privilege against self-incrimination, a compulsory process right, a speedy and public trial, a venue or vicinage requirement, and the right to confront witnesses.[407] There was a presentment requirement and a right to presence at trial for felonies.[408] The Code of Criminal Procedure provided a habeas guarantee.[409] Procedural protections for treason prosecutions found in Article III of the U.S. Constitution were codified.[410] The statutory right to counsel was supplemented by a provision that said: [i]f the defendant appears for arraignment without counsel, he must be informed by the court that it is his right to have counsel before being arraigned, and must be asked if he desires the aid of counsel.[411] If the defendant “desires and is unable to employ counsel, the court must assign counsel to defend him.”[412] This right to appointed counsel for the indigent went well beyond what the U.S. Constitution was understood to require at the time.

The 1902 Civil Code of Puerto Rico protected against retroactive impairment of vested rights—very similar to what the Contracts Clause did.[413] Both the federal district court and the Supreme Court of Puerto Ricoheld that the Contracts Clause itself, or a fundamental principle of general law providing the same protection, were in force in Puerto Rico.[414] In a 1903 statute, the Legislative Assembly mirrored the core provisions of the Takings Clause of the Fifth Amendment.[415]

Not every constitutional right from the mainland was duplicated by local statute in Puerto Rico. There were no “due process” or “equal protection” provisions. With minor exceptions that came later, there was no grand jury used in insular courts.[416] Nor was there a civil jury in insular courts. There was no local statute paralleling the Ex Post Facto or the Bill of Attainder Clauses. The Second, Third, Eighth, and Thirteenth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution had no local statutory analogues. As in all other U.S. territories, the independence of judges in Puerto Rico was not protected by guaranteed life tenure.[417]

A few of the omissions were irrelevant—there was no chance that soldiers were going to be quartered in private homes or that slavery was going to be introduced in Puerto Rico. Most of the other omissions were supplied by judicial decision. Puerto Rico courts, for instance, affirmed and expressly endorsed by the U.S. Supreme Court on two occasions, held that the Constitution’s due process protections were in force in Puerto Rico from the time that the United States took sovereignty over the island.[418] Retroactive laws that prejudiced rights granted under previous statutes were invalid.[419]

Later, in the 1917 Jones Act, which granted U.S. citizenship to Puerto Ricans, Congress enacted a bill of rights which covered the spectrum of rights protected by the U.S. Constitution, omitting only the Second Amendment right to bear arms, the Third Amendment no-quartering rule, and the jury guarantees.[420] Several important rights in the Jones Act (Puerto Rico) went beyond what the U.S. Constitution conferred. Bail was guaranteed except in capital cases, imprisonment for debt was outlawed, as was child labor, and workers were guaranteed an eighthour day.[421] A summary chart comparing statutory and judicial protections in the Puerto Rico to provisions in the U.S. Constitution is found in Appendix A.

C.  Experience with Jury Trials in Puerto Rico During the Era of the Insular Cases

The jury system in the U.S. district court in Puerto Rico—grand jury and petit jury in civil and criminal cases, on the same terms as in the mainland—seemed to work well. Judge William Holt (190004) found that Puerto Rican jurors “performed as fairly, honestly and efficiently as jurors acting in the United States,” and noted that “Porto Ricans favor” the use of juries.[422] The only prominent complaint came from judges concerned about the difficulty of procuring qualified jurors. English was the official language of the federal court system, and in the early years after the American takeover, relatively few native Puerto Ricans spoke it fluently enough.[423]

There were more issues with the criminal petit jury in the local courts, where the vast majority of legal business was handled. Criminal defendants charged with felonies had the right to elect whether to be tried by a jury or judge. In the first seven months that the jury was available, only ten defendants elected it.[424] It seems that, naturally enough, Puerto Rican criminal defendants and lawyers preferred the system with which they were familiar, bench trials.[425]

In his 1903 annual report, the Attorney General of Puerto Rico called trial by jury “very disappointing.”[426] He reported that many thought “the lawyers themselves are the most serious obstacles in the way of jury trials.”[427] He concluded that “[i]t is a mistake to suppose that the people of Porto Rico are so lacking in either education or judgment as to be unable to furnish an abundance of competent jurors. The exact opposite is true.”[428] The problem, rather, was hundreds of years of Spanish authoritarianism had not given the people the proper “political training” to serve as a neutral arbiter between the state and the accused, capable of understanding and weighing the interests of both sides.[429] This was the same point Taft made in arguing against use of the jury in the Philippines.

The crux of the problem seemed to be that mainland American officials—for decades, both the governor and attorney general were from the mainland, appointed by the president of the United States[430]—thought that Puerto Rican juries acquitted the guilty too frequently. For the year from July 1, 1902 to June 30, 1903, 188 jury trials were held, out of 1,245 felony cases.[431] The acquittal rate was just over 49%.[432] Since jury trials were only held in felony cases,[433] it was often allegedlyguilty murderers and others charged with serious crimes who were going free. The next year, the governor reported that the jury system was not yielding “very satisfactory results.”[434] The acquittal rate in jury trials for that year was nearly 53%.[435] By way of comparison, acquittal rates in jury trials in New York County at the same time averaged in the high 30s.[436] As discussed in Part II, Taft, Root, and many other elite lawyers and academics thought the acquittal rates in the mainland United States were scandalously high. The rate in Puerto Rico—perhaps as much as 50% higher than the rate in the mainland, if New York County is representativea big assumption—surely troubled American policymakers. These facts may account for why Taft to use his 1905 “disgrace” speech to declare that the jury trial in Puerto Rico was a “failure.”[437]

But within a few years, the acquittal rate in jury trials in Puerto Rican local courts had declined substantially.[438] The legislature accepted the attorney general’s recommendation to enact a statute clarifying that judges had the power to comment and instruct juries on the judge’s view of the evidence. In 1911, the attorney general reported to the War Department that the jury system had submitted “a most remarkable showing.”[439] He told the New York Times that:

In some respects [Puerto Ricans] are far ahead of any State here. For instance, there is never in Porto Rico any complaint—as there is almost universally here—of the law’s delays. We don’t have law’s delays in Porto Rico. All cases are tried expeditiously and with even-handed justice in all the courts of the island, and protracted litigation is almost unknown.[440]

He ascribed the success to reforms that lawyers like Taft and Root had urged on the mainland for years: a harmless error statute, preventing “[a] mere technicality” from causing reversal, and the new statute “allowing a Judge to comment on the evidence and to sum up the case to the jury.”[441] Juries in Puerto Rico, he concluded, generally “decide quickly and justly.”[442] As noted in Section V.B.2, in 1919, the Assembly extended criminal petit jury rights to misdemeanor defendants. The right was codified in the Puerto Rico Constitution when it became a commonwealth in 1952. That constitution does not, however, guarantee a grand jury or civil jury.

D.  Muratti, Tapia, and Balzac: The Supreme Court Reiterates that the Jury Is Not Constitutionally Required

After the 1917 Jones Act extended U.S. citizenship to most Puerto Ricans and enacted a bill of rights that omitted the jury, litigants in Puerto Rican courts moved to reconsider the applicability of Dorr and Mankichi, arguing that Puerto Rico should now be considered an incorporated territory and that the U.S. Constitution, therefore, required the same jury rights in local courts as it did in mainland federal courts. This argument was plausible because the Supreme Court had held that citizenship for inhabitants of Alaska was an important indicium of that territory’s incorporation, which had made the Sixth Amendment jury right applicable there.[443]

In April 1917, the U.S. District Court for the District of Porto Rico granted a writ of habeas corpus directing that Carlos Tapia be released from custody of the local courts of San Juan, where he had been charged by information with assault with intent to kill.[444] In a lengthy and learned opinion, the judge held that because Puerto Rico had been incorporated into the Union, the Grand Jury Clause of the Fifth Amendment applied in the local courts.[445] He placed principal reliance on the Jones Act’s grant of citizenship.[446] Three months later, in the case of an accused murderer Jose Muratti, the Supreme Court of Puerto Rico agreed that the Grand Jury Clause applied in local courts because Puerto Rico had been incorporated by the Jones Act.[447]

Both cases were taken to the U.S. Supreme Court. The U.S. government argued there that the grand jury was “unsuited to the needs and habits of the people,” and, hence, would cause “injustice and provoke disturbance rather than to aid the orderly administration of justice.”[448] The government quoted Holden’s discussion of the desirability of allowing a territory with a civil law system of procedure to maintain “its traditions, laws, and systems of administration unchanged.”[449] And although the local legislature had the power to enact legislation for the grand jury, the civil petit jury, or the criminal petit jury in some classes of cases, the government brief’s noted that Puerto Rico’s representatives had not done so.[450] There were no racist or chauvinistic comments about the people of Puerto Rico in the U.S. briefing.

The brief continued that grand and petit juries had been repeatedly held to be “matters of procedure” rather than “fundamental” rights.[451] The grant of citizenship in the Jones Act did not show congressional intent to incorporate Puerto Rico into the Union; rather, it occurred within a month of the declaration of war on Germany, and “[i]t was highly important to remove any cause of ill feeling in Porto Rico and to encourage the loyalty of its citizens.”[452] Other provisions of the Jones Act (Puerto Rico) showed an intent not to incorporate and fully extend the Constitution: for example, the provision of a statutory bill of rights which omitted the grand and petit jury.[453]

The Supreme Court summarily reversed in Porto Rico v. Tapia, citing Mankichi, Dorr, and other Insular Cases,[454] thus voiding the lower court’s holding that Puerto Rico was incorporated and constitutional jury rights were applicable. The Court then summarily reversed in Porto Rico v. Muratti, citing Tapia.[455]

But the issue of whether the Jones Act (Puerto Rico) had effected incorporation and therefore extended constitutional jury rights to Puerto Rico did not go away. Jesus Balzac, a newspaper editor, was charged by information in 1918 in a local Puerto Rican court with criminal libel, a misdemeanor. He demanded a jury trial under the Sixth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.[456] The Supreme Court of Puerto Rico upheld the local law’s denial of the jury for misdemeanorsonly felony defendants had a statutory right to jury trial under then-existing Puerto Rican lawby citing Muratti and Tapia.[457]

At the U.S. Supreme Court, the government treated the issue as settled. A government lawyer submitted a perfunctory brief, saying that Muratti and Tapia foreclosed Balzac’s argument about incorporation and jury rights.[458] Taft, now Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, affirmed for a unanimous Court.[459] The Court reiterated that constitutional jury rights under the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Amendments “do not apply to territory belonging to the United States which has not been incorporated into the Union.”[460] The Jones Act had not effected incorporation of Puerto Rico into the Union, despite the grant of citizenship, because, among other reasons, the statutory bill of rights had omitted the grand jury and petit jury, showing congressional intent not to fully apply the Constitution.[461] The Court was careful to note, however, that fundamental constitutional rights, including the Due Process Clause, “had from the beginning full application in . . . Porto Rico.”[462]

As support for its holding, the Court opined that the jury system requires “a conscious duty of participation in the machinery of justice which it is hard for people not brought up in fundamentally popular government at once to acquire.”[463] Congress must have determined—wisely, Taft suggested—that “Porto Ricans, trained to a complete judicial system which knows no juries, living in compact and ancient communities, with definitely formed customs and political conceptions, should be permitted themselves to determine how far they wish to adopt this institution of Anglo-Saxon origin.”[464] This passage certainly contains a whiff of a patronizing chauvinism, but there is more going on than that.

Taft was expressing, somewhat allusively, views that were second nature to him and other elite lawyers who came to the bar during the era of classical legal orthodoxy and became disenchanted with the jury. Law and legal institutions must “spring from the soil” and conform to people’s habits and customs if they are to work well. Making the jury work well was actually quite difficult, even in the mainland United States, where it had existed for centuries. As discussed in Section II above, the jury had fallen into disrepute among elite lawyers of Taft’s era. One should even be warier of the jury, Taft and others thought, in a formerly civil law jurisdiction that had no traditions of jury service or other kinds of popular self-government.

Conclusion

Many commentators have found that the Court’s decisions in the Insular jury cases—holding in Mankichi, Dorr, Balzac and other cases that constitutional jury rights were not fundamental and not applicable in unincorporated territory—must have been motivated by extra-legal views sounding in racism and cultural chauvinism. Those factors certainly played a role in policymaking by U.S. officials during the era of the Insular Cases. But on the issue of the jury and other criminal procedure rights, there were other considerations as well. In the Insular Cases about the jury, a majority of the Court agreed with the U.S. government and with the anti-jury movement in the mainland that jury trials were an outdated, inefficient, ineffective means of fact-finding and that U.S. officials and local legislatures in the territories should be left free of constitutional shackles so they could experiment and adjust criminal and civil procedure to the needs of their particular polities. In addition, it was very important to U.S. policymakers that the jury was not natively rooted in either Puerto Rico or the Philippines—those territories had unreconstructed civil law procedure during their long periods under Spanish rule. And they had lacked any other tradition of popular involvement in self-government. Given these considerations, U.S. policymakers decided not to import the jury, which was viewed as an institution in serious trouble even in the United States where it had existed for centuries and was buttressed by a long tradition of popular self-government.

By arguing that U.S. policymakers who thought that jury rights should not be extended to the Philippines and Puerto Rico were motivated by honestly and widelyheld views about procedural efficiency and problems with the jury, I do not mean to suggest that racism or cultural chauvinism were not present. They were. And by casting U.S. governance of those territories in a positive light as far as individual procedural rights were concerned, I do not mean to slight the real grievances that the people of both territories have had—and in the case of Puerto Rico, still haveabout U.S. rule. My goal, rather, is to provide a broader, more contextual picture of the decision-making of U.S. policymakers in order to better illuminate their values, preconceptions, objectives, and actions. This broader view shows a concerted effort to protect individual rights in the territories by U.S. policymakers, but a deep skepticism about the value of the jury as a means of doing that.

 When Taft, Root, and others who were critical of the jury were opposing its extension to the Philippines and Puerto Rico, they were often making the exact same arguments at the exact same time about the failure of trial by jury in the United States. The fact that jury rights were embedded in U.S. and state constitutions, and in the history and imagination of the American people, made many would-be jury reformers despair that they could never be eliminated in the United States. For rock-ribbed conservatives like Root, the historical and traditional roots of the jury in the mainland were reason alone to be very wary of reform there. Therefore, the focus of anti-jury reformers in the mainland was generally to tinker on the margins—for example, by getting rid of the twelveperson rule or the rule of unanimity. But where U.S. officials had a freer hand to design a legal system without the constitutional, emotional, and historical constraints they faced in the mainland, they were able to curtail, as in Puerto Rico, or entirely eliminate, as in the Philippines, the use of the jury.

APPENDIX

Table 1.  Federally-Protected Fundamental Rights, Mainland[a] and Unincorporated Territories (19001920)

 

 

[*]Professor, Fordham University School of Law. This paper benefitted from presentations at a Fordham Law faculty workshop and the annual works-in-progress meeting of the American Society of International Law’s International Law in Domestic Courts Interest Group. For their helpful comments and suggestions, thanks to Curtis Bradley, James Brudney, Nathan Chapman, Saul Cornell, Ashley Deeks, William Dodge, Jean Galbraith, Jonathan Hafetz, Tanya Hernández, Thomas Lee, Ethan Leib, Renée Lettow Lerner, David Moore, Russell Pearce, Christina Duffy Ponsa-Kraus, Jed Shugerman, and David Sloss. Thanks to Angel Marcial for assistance with research.

 [1]. Treaty of Peace, Spain-U.S., arts. I, II & III, Dec. 10, 1898, 30 Stat. 1754.

 [2]. Joint Resolution to Provide for Annexing the Hawaiian Islands to the United States, 30 Stat. 750 (1898).

 [3]. 3 Charles Warren, The Supreme Court in United States History 430 (1922).

 [4]. The term, Insular Cases, includes nine cases decided in 1901 concerning tariffs or shipping between the United States and territories seized from Spain. See generally Fourteen Diamond Rings, 183 U.S. 176 (1901) (deciding whether a state of insurrection rendered goods imported from the Philippines after cession to the United States as imported from a “foreign country” under U.S. tariff laws); Dooley v. United States, 183 U.S. 151 (1901) (deciding whether a statutory tariff on goods imported from the mainland United States into Puerto Rico after the cession violated the Constitution’s Export Clause); Huus v. N.Y. & Porto Rico S.S. Co., 182 U.S. 392 (1901) (deciding whether a vessel entering New York harbor from Puerto Rico was engaged in foreign trade or the domestic coasting trade under U.S. federal and New York statutes); Downes v. Bidwell, 182 U.S. 244 (1901) (deciding whether the Uniformity Clause of the Constitution invalidated a statutory tariff on trade between post-cession Puerto Rico and U.S. states, where no tariff existed on trade between U.S. states); Armstrong v. United States, 182 U.S. 243 (1901) (deciding whether a U.S. military tariff could be imposed on goods imported into Puerto Rico from the mainland United States, before the treaty of cession); Dooley v. United States, 182 U.S. 222 (1901) (deciding whether a U.S. military tariff could be imposed on goods imported into Puerto Rico from mainland United States before and after the treaty of cession); Goetze v. United States, 182 U.S. 221 (1901) (deciding whether goods imported from Puerto Rico and Hawaii after cession to the United States were from a “foreign country” under U.S. tariff laws); De Lima v. Bidwell, 182 U.S. 1 (1901) (deciding whether goods imported from Puerto Rico after cession to the United States were from a “foreign country” under U.S. tariff laws). A series of cases concerning jury rights is also typically included. See generally Balzac v. Porto Rico, 258 U.S. 298 (1922) (reviewing the constitutionality of a Puerto Rican court criminal conviction not employing a grand jury or trial jury); Dowdell v. United States, 221 U.S. 325 (1911) (same, but for the Philippines); Rassmussen v. United States, 197 U.S. 516 (1905) (reviewing the constitutionality of a misdemeanor trial in Alaskan territory before a jury of only six); Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138 (1904) (reviewing the constitutionality of a felony conviction in a Philippine court after cession to the United States obtained with a mandatory bench jury); Hawaii v. Mankichi, 190 U.S. 197 (1903) (reviewing the constitutionality of a felony conviction in Hawaii after cession to the United States obtained without grand jury indictment and with a trial jury numbering only nine).  

 [5]. See, e.g., José A. Cabranes, Citizenship and the American Empire 4 (1979); Owen M. Fiss, 8 History of the Supreme Court of the United States: Troubled Beginnings of the Modern State, 1888–1910 228–29 (1993); Kal Raustiala, Does the Constitution Follow the Flag? The Evolution of Territoriality in American Law 76–86 (2009).

 [6]. See Andrew Kent, Boumediene, Munaf and the Supreme Court’s Misreading of the Insular Cases, 97 Iowa L. Rev. 101, 108 (2011) [hereinafter Kent, Boumediene].

 [7]. See id.

 [8]. See id; U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 1 (“[A]ll Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States”); id. art. III, § 2, cl. 3 (“The Trial of all crimes . . . shall be by Jury”); id. amend. V (“No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury”); id. amend. VI (“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury”); id. amend. VII (“In suits at common law . . . the right of trial by jury shall be preserved”).

 [9]. See Rassmussen, 197 U.S. at 519–20 (White, J.) (stating that incorporation theory was adopted in Dorr and applying it to the case of Alaskan territory); Dorr, 195 U.S. at 142–43 (seeming to adopt incorporation theory); Mankichi, 190 U.S. at 218–19 (White, J., concurring, joined by McKenna, J.) (reiterating incorporation theory); Downes, 182 U.S. at 288–93, 299–300, 341–42 (White, J., McKenna, J. & Shiras, J. concurring) (setting out the incorporation theory). See generally Christina Duffy Burnett [Ponsa-Kraus], A Convenient Constitution? Extraterritoriality After Boumediene, 109 Colum. L. Rev. 973, 982–83 (2009) [hereinafter Burnett, A Convenient Constitution] (summarizing the doctrine).

 [10]. See Rassmussen, 197 U.S. at 520–22; Dorr, 195 U.S. at 142–44; Downes, 182 U.S. at 341–42 (White, J., concurring).

 [11]. Burnett, A Convenient Constitution, supra note 9, at 983 (quoting Downes, 182 U.S. at 319, 326 (White, J., concurring)).

 [12]. Balzac v. Porto Rico, 258 U.S. 298, 304–05 (1922); Rassmussen, 197 U.S. at 519–20; Dorr, 195 U.S. at 148; Mankichi, 190 U.S. at 218. See also Ocampo v. United States, 234 U.S. 91, 98 (1914) (holding the Grand Jury Clause not applicable in Philippines); Dowdell, 221 U.S. at 332 (holding no constitutional right to jury trial in the Philippines). Also, in a case arising from the temporary U.S. military occupation of Cuba, the Court held that the Constitution would not be violated by extraditing a fugitive from the United States to Cuba where he would be tried for embezzlement in a judicial system that lacked “trial by jury.” Neely v. Henkel, 180 U.S. 109, 122–23 (1901).

 [13]. Dorr, 195 U.S. at 148 (holding that “the right to trial by jury” is not “a fundamental right which goes wherever the jurisdiction of the United States extends” and so need not be granted in the Philippines); Mankichi, 190 U.S. at 218 (“[W]e place our decision of this case upon the ground that the two rights alleged to be violated in this case [grand jury and petit jury under Fifth and Sixth Amendments] are not fundamental in their nature, but concern merely a method of procedure . . . .”).

 [14]. See Dorr, 195 U.S. at 144–45; Downes, 182 U.S. at 277, 280, 282–83 (Brown, J.); id. at 298 (White, J., concurring).

 [15]. The exception was the Due Process Clause. See Balzac, 258 U.S. at 312–13 (stating in dictum that constitutional due process “had from the beginning full application in the Philippines and Porto Rico”); Ochoa v. Hernandez y Morales, 230 U.S. 139, 153–54 (1913) (implying that the Constitution’s Due Process Clause would limit congressional legislation for Puerto Rico); Santiago v. Nogueras, 214 U.S. 260, 268 (1909), aff’g 2 P.R. Fed. Rep. 467, 488 (1907) (finding that constitutional due process was applicable in Puerto Rico); United States v. Heinszen, 206 U.S. 370, 386 (1907) (seeming to imply that the Due Process Clause limited congressional legislation for the Philippines).

 [16]. See Puerto Rico v. Snchez Valle, 136 S. Ct. 1863, 1863–68 (2016) (examining Insular Cases and other precedents to determine if Puerto Rico and the U.S. government are the same sovereign for purposes of the Double Jeopardy Clause); Tuaua v. United States, 788 F.3d 300, 300–02 (D.C. Cir. 2015) (applying the Insular Cases precedents to decide if the Fourteenth Amendment Citizenship Clause applies in American Samoa); Igartua v. United States, 626 F.3d 592, 592–94 (1st Cir. 2010) (examining the Insular Cases and other precedents to determine whether residents of Puerto Rico have a constitutional right to be represented in the U.S. House of Representatives).

 [17]. See Boumediene v. Bush, 553 U.S. 723, 756–59 (2008) (Guantanamo Bay); Munaf v. Geren, 553 U.S. 674, 695–96 (2008) (Iraq).

       [18].      See Brown v. Bd. of Educ., 347 U.S. 483 (1954). 

 [19]. See, e.g., Bartholomew H. Sparrow, The Centennial of Ocampo v. United States: Lessons from the Insular Cases, in Reconsidering the Insular Cases: The Past and Future of the American Empire 39, 57 (Gerald L. Neuman & Tomiko Brown Nagin eds., 2015) (noting that the “discrimination” allowed by the Insular Cases against residents of unincorporated territories “seems greatly outdated . . . [i]n an era when the United States has deeply eroded, if not eliminated, de jure discrimination on the basis of race, ethnicity, gender, and religion”).

 [20]. Owen J. Lynch, The U.S. Constitution and Philippine Colonialism: An Enduring and Unfortunate Legacy, in The Colonial Crucible: Empire in the Making of the Modern American State 353, 364 (Alfred W. McCoy & Francisco A. Scarano eds., 2009).

 [21]. See infra notes 7680 and accompanying text.

 [22]. Andrew Kent, Citizenship and Protection, 82 Fordham L. Rev. 2115, 2128 (2014) [hereinafter Kent, Citizenship].

 [23]. A table comparing rights (1) guaranteed by the Constitution in the States and (2) in the incorporated territories, compared with (3) the rights protected by congressional statute, local law, or judicial decision in the Philippines and Puerto Rico is found infra in Appendix A. The Supreme Court decreed that rights granted in congressional statutes would be interpreted to have the same meaning as analogously-worded U.S. constitutional rights. See Trono v. United States, 199 U.S. 521, 529 (1905); Kepner v. United States, 195 U.S. 100, 124 (1904).

 [24]. Starting in January 1899, there was a bloody armed insurrection against U.S. rule in the Philippines that did not fully end until 1905. Banditry was widespread in rural areas there. Very few people appear to have thought that guaranteeing a right to bear arms was a good idea. William Howard Taft, a key U.S. policymaker on colonial issues, argued that a broad right to bear arms was not wise in the mainland United States, either. See Bishop Potter, Ex-Gov. Taft Upholds Rule of Philippines, N.Y. Times, Apr. 22, 1904, at 5.

 [25]. In later cases, the Court stated in dicta that the Seventh Amendment civil jury right was not applicable in unincorporated territory. See Puerto Rico v. Shell Co., 302 U.S. 253, 258 (1937); Balzac v. Porto Rico, 258 U.S. 298, 304–05 (1922).

 [26]. Christina Duffy Burnett [Ponsa-Kraus], Untied States: American Expansion and Territorial Deannexation, 72 U. Chi. L. Rev. 797, 812 n.69 (2005) [hereinafter Burnett, Untied States]. In fact, the Court has held that a number of important constitutional provisions are in effect in Puerto Rico. See Posadas de P.R. Assocs. v. Tourism Co. of P.R., 478 U.S. 328, 339 (1986) (First Amendment); Torres v. Puerto Rico, 442 U.S. 465, 471 (1979) (Fourth Amendment); Examining Bd. of Eng’rs, Architects & Surveyors v. Flores De Otero, 426 U.S. 572, 599–601 (1976) (Equal Protection).

 [27]. See, e.g., Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138, 145 (1904).

 [28]. William H. Taft, Civil Government in the Philippines, Outlook, May 31, 1902, at 315.

 [29]. See, e.g., Stuart Creighton Miller, “Benevolent Assimilation”: The American Conquest of the Philippines, 1899–1903, at 134 (1982); José Trías Monge, Puerto Rico: The Trials of the Oldest Colony in the World 33 (1997).

 [30]. See, e.g., Suja A. Thomas, The Missing American Jury: Restoring the Fundamental Constitutional Role of the Criminal, Civil, and Grand Juries 58–68 (2016).

 [31]. 4 William Blackstone, Commentaries 343–52.

 [32]. See, e.g., The Federalist No. 83, at 543 (Alexander Hamilton); Speech of Mr. Ingersoll on the Judiciary, Delivered in the Convention of Pennsylvania on the First of November 1837, at 16 (Harrisburg, Packer, Barrett & Parke 1837).

 [33]. See, e.g., Juries and Jurymen, Worcester Daily Spy, June 28, 1884, at 2; Adelphio Union—Mr. Phillips’s Lecture, Liberator, Mar. 19, 1847, at 47.

 [34]. Twining v. New Jersey, 211 U.S. 78, 101 (1908).

 [35]. For Taft’s biography, see generally Jonathan Lurie, William Howard Taft: The Travails of a Progressive Conservative (2012); 1 & 2 Henry F. Pringle, The Life and Times of William Howard Taft: A Biography (1939).

 [36]. See David Henry Burton, Taft, Holmes, and the 1920s Court: An Appraisal 127 (1998) (quoting Taft).

 [37]. On Root’s career, see generally 1 & 2 Phillip C. Jessup, Elihu Root (1938); Richard W. Leopold, Elihu Root and the Conservative Tradition (1954).

 [38]. 1 Jessup, supra note 37, at 215.

 [39]. See Kent, Citizenship, supra note 22, at 2128; Andrew Kent, Disappearing Legal Black Holes and Converging Domains: Changing Individual Rights Protection in National Security and Foreign Affairs, 115 Colum. L. Rev. 1029, 1029–68 (2015). See also Rogers M. Smith, The Insular Cases, Differentiated Citizenship, and Territorial Statuses in the Twenty-First Century, in Reconsidering the Insular Cases: The Past and Future of the American Empire, supra note 19, at 103–04 (noting “powerful strains [of political theory] insisting that the citizens of republics must be equal before the law, possessed of identical bundles of basic rights and duties”).

 [40]. Bartholomew H. Sparrow, The Insular Cases and the Emergence of American Empire 5 (2006). See also Jaime B. Fuster, The Origins of the Doctrine of Territorial Incorporation and its Implications Regarding the Power of the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico to Regulate Interstate Commerce, 43 Rev. Jur. U. P.R. 259, 263 (1974).

 [41]. T. Alexander Aleinikoff, Semblances of Sovereignty: The Constitution, the State and American Citizenship 81 (2002). See also Gerald L. Neuman, Whose Constitution?, 100 Yale L.J. 909, 957–60 (1991).

 [42]. Efrén Rivera Ramos, The Legal Construction of American Colonialism: The Insular Cases, 65 Rev. Jur. U. P.R. 225, 327 (1996).

 [43]. See Sarah H. Cleveland, Powers Inherent in Sovereignty: Indians, Aliens, Territories, and the Nineteenth Century Origins of Plenary Power over Foreign Affairs, 81 Tex. L. Rev. 1, 212 (2002); Gerald L. Neuman, Closing the Guantanamo Loophole, 50 Loy. L. Rev. 1, 6 (2004); Ramos, supra note 42, at 327.

 [44]. See, e.g., Downes v. Bidwell, 182 U.S. 244, 286–87 (1901).

 [45]. The Treaty Clause of the Constitution could be used for “any matter which is properly the subject of negotiation with a foreign country.” Geofroy v. Riggs, 133 U.S. 258, 267 (1890).

 [46]. See U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 4; id. art. IV, § 3.

 [47]. See generally Dred Scott v. Sandford, 60 U.S. 393 (1857).

 [48]. United States v. Wong Kim Ark, 169 U.S. 649, 693 (1898).

 [49]. Sam Erman, Citizens of Empire: Puerto Rico, Status, and Constitutional Change, 102 Calif. L. Rev. 1181, 1194–95 (2014).

 [50]. Puerto Rico was relatively close to the United States, had largely welcomed U.S. intervention, was strategically located along sea lanes vital to controlling a future isthmian canal, and could provide a good naval base. Monroe Doctrine concerns also counseled in favor of ejecting Spain from a major possession near the United States. See Raymond Carr, Puerto Rico: A Colonial Experiment 25–28, 31 (1984); Cabranes, supra note 5, at 31–34. Tiny Guam was an afterthought. See Kent, Boumediene, supra note 6, at 119.

 [51]. See John Morgan Gates, Schoolbooks and Krags: The United States Army in the Philippines, 18981902, at 7 (1973); Eric T. L. Love, Race Over Empire: Racism and U.S. Imperialism, 1865–1900, at 161 (2004); Robert D. Ramsey III, Savage Wars of Peace: Case Studies of Pacification in the Philippines, 1900–1902, at 2–3 (2007).

 [52]. See, e.g., Cabranes, supra note 5, at 40–41; Miller, supra note 29, at 15, 26; Stanley Karnow, In Our Image: America’s Empire in the Philippines 137 (1989). But some leading anti-imperialists and critics of U.S. policy in the Philippines, such as Mark Twain, Senator George Frisbie Hoar of Massachusetts, and lawyer Moorfield Storey, the first president of the NAACP, held progressive views on race. See Roger Daniels, Coming to America 271 (2d ed. 2002) (discussing Hoar’s views); 2 Walter LaFeber, The Cambridge History of American Foreign Relations: The American Search for Opportunity, 1865–1913, at 52–53, 162 (1993) (discussing Twain’s and Storey’s views).

 [53]. See, e.g., Mark S. Weiner, Teutonic Constitutionalism: The Role of Ethno-Juridical Discourse in the Spanish-American War, in Foreign in a Domestic Sense: Puerto Rico, American Expansion, and the Constitution 48, 55 (Christina Duffy Burnett [Ponsa-Kraus] & Burke Marshall eds., 2001).

 [54]. G.G. Vest, Objections to Annexing the Philippines, 168 N. Am. Rev. 112, 112 (1899).

 [55]. Paul A. Kramer, The Blood of Government: Race, Empire, the United States, and the Philippines 2 (2006) (quoting Sen. Albert Beveridge).

 [56]. See Gates, supra note 51, at 40–42, 76–77; LaFeber, supra note 52, at 163.

 [57]. S. Journal, 55th Cong., 3d. Sess. 1284 (1899) (giving advice and consent to ratification of the treaty); 32 Cong. Rec. 1846 (1899) (floor vote on McEnery resolution).

 [58]. See, e.g., Vedasto Jose Samonte, The American System of Colonial Administration 144 (1925).

 [59]. Thomas Hudson McKee, The National Conventions and Platforms of All Political Parties, 1789 to 1900, at 333 (3d rev. ed. 1900).

 [60]. Downes v. Bidwell, 182 U.S. 244, 287 (1901) (opinion of Brown, J.) (discussing the need for U.S. government flexibility when faced with “possessions . . . inhabited by alien races, differing from us in religion, customs, laws”); id. at 313 (White, J., concurring) (desiring to avoid a constitutional rule that would allow “incorporation of alien races” into the union against the wishes of Congress).

 [61]. See Burnett, Untied States, supra note 26, at 853–70. See also Cabranes, supra note 5, at 50 (noting that Justice White intended the incorporation doctrine to allow the United States to grant independence to the Philippines); Julius W. Pratt, America’s Colonial Experiment: How the United States Gained, Governed, and in Part Gave away a Colonial Empire 163–65 (1950) (same). President Wilson announced that it was U.S. policy to grant independence to the Philippines. See 51 Cong. Rec. 34, 75 (1913). See also Philippine Autonomy (Jones) Act, ch. 416, Pub. L. No. 64-240, 39 Stat. 545, 545 pmbl. (1916) (endorsing independence through a congressional act).

 [62]. See, e.g., Love, supra note 51, at 181–93; Kent, Citizenship, supra note 22, at 2128; Kent, Boumediene, supra note 6, at 119 n.68, 128 n.110.

 [63]. Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 U.S. 537 (1896).

 [64]. Gerald L. Neuman, Constitutionalism and Individual Rights in the Territories, in Foreign in a Domestic Sense: Puerto Rico, American Expansion, and the Constitution 182, 184 (Christina Duffy Burnett [Ponsa-Kraus] & Burke Marshall eds., 2001).

 [65]. See Burnett, Untied States, supra note 26, at 821–23, 837–38, 850.

 [66]. See Cleveland, supra note 43, at 207; Burnett, Untied States, supra note 26, at 824–32.

 [67]. See Burnett, Untied States, supra note 26, at 832.

 [68]. Lynch, supra note 20, at 364.

 [69]. Noah Feldman, When Judges Make Foreign Policy, N.Y. Times Mag., Sept. 28, 2008, at A50. To the same effect, see Leia Castañeda Anastacio, The Foundations of the Modern Philippine State: Imperial Rule and the American Constitutional Tradition in the Philippine Islands, 1898–1935, at 8 (2016) (stating that in unincorporated territory like the Philippines, “the US Constitution’s force was moral rather than legal”); Pedro A. Malavet, Reparations Theory and Postcolonial Puerto Rico: Some Preliminary Thoughts, 13 Berkeley La Raza L.J. 387, 402 (2002) (“In the Insular Cases, resolved at the beginning of the twentieth century by the U.S. Supreme Court, the [Territorial] clause was interpreted to give to the federal government almost unfettered authority over the territories and territorial residents.”); Saikrishna Prakash, Against Tribal Fungibility, 89 Cornell L. Rev. 1069, 1091 (2004) (describing the holding of the Insular Cases as “the Constitution does not apply in so-called unincorporated territories”).

 [70]. See supra notes 1315 and accompanying text.

 [71]. Cleveland, supra note 43, at 237–38.

 [72]. Ediberto Román, The Other American Colonies 56 (2006).

 [73]. Rogers M. Smith, The Bitter Roots of Puerto Rican Citizenship, in Foreign in a Domestic Sense: Puerto Rico, American Expansion, and the Constitution 373, 380 (Christina Duffy Burnett [Ponsa-Kraus] & Burke Marshall eds., 2001).

 [74]. Efrén Rivera Ramos, The Legal Construction of Identity: The Judicial and Social Legacy of American Colonialism in Puerto Rico 88 (2001).

 [75]. See infra notes 245–46, 269–80, 313–15, 345 (all concerning the Philippines); infra notes 398418 (concerning Puerto Rico). See also infra Appendix A (summarizing this data).

 [76]. See, e.g., Ramos, supra note 74, at 113 (identifying “obvious racism” motivating the Court in the Insular Cases); 2 Melvin I. Urofsky, A March of Liberty: A Constitutional History of the United States 491 (1988) (stating that the “common thread” running through Insular Cases was “the racism that permeated the nation”); Carlos R. Soltero, The Supreme Court Should Overrule the Territorial Incorporation Doctrine and End One Hundred Years of Judicially Condoned Colonialism, 22 Chicano-Latino L. Rev. 1, 3 (2001) (stating that the Insular Cases were decided in the way they were “to a large extent because of the race and non-Anglo-Saxon national origin of the majority of the people living in those places”); Juan R. Torruella, The Insular Cases: The Establishment of a Regime of Political Apartheid, 29 U. Pa. J. Int’l L. 283, 286 (2007) (stating that the “skewed outcome” of the Insular Cases “was strongly influenced by racially motivated biases and by colonial governance theories that were contrary to American territorial practice and experience”).

 [77]. Walter F. Pratt, Jr., Insular Cases, in The Oxford Companion to the Supreme Court of the United States 500 (Kermit L. Hall et al. eds., 2d ed. 2005).

 [78]. Akhil Reed Amar, Foreword: The Document and the Doctrine, 114 Harv. L. Rev. 26, 71–72 (2000).

 [79]. Torruella, supra note 76, at 326.

 [80]. See, e.g., Soltero, supra note 76, at 24 (stating that the Court’s reasoning in Balzac constituted “legal rationalizations for perpetuating colonialism”); Alan Tauber, The Empire Forgotten: The Application of the Bill of Rights to U.S. Territories, 57 Case W. Res. L. Rev. 147, 169 (2006) (stating that language in Supreme Court cases about deferring to local preferences and civil law traditions was “obviously false” and “a thin veil with which to hide the blatant racism utilized in the Court’s opinions”).

 [81]. Holden v. Hardy, 169 U.S. 366, 383–84 (1898).

 [82]. Hurtado v. California, 110 U.S. 516, 529–30 (1884).

 [83]. William H. Taft, The Administration of Criminal Law, 15 Yale L.J. 1, 11 (1905) [hereinafter Taft, Administration].

 [84]. See, e.g., Frederick Bausman, Are Our Laws Responsible for the Increase of Violent Crime?, 31 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 489, 490, 494 (1908); James W. Garner, Crime and Judicial Inefficiency, 29 Annals Am. Acad. Pol. & Soc. Sci. 161, 164 (1907); Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 11; Hans Teichmueller, Judge and Jury, 30 Am. L. Rev. 710, 715 (1896); George H. Williams, Abolition of the Jury System, 9 Law Notes 150, 152 (1905); Van Buren Denslow, Homicides, American and Southern, Soc. Economist, Mar. 1895, at 35. It appears that overall crimes rates were not in fact rising at this time. See Kermit L. Hall, The Magic Mirror: Law in American History 178–79 (1989) (noting that crime rates fell dramatically in the decades after the Civil War). But some research suggests that homicide rates spiked upward at the end of the nineteenth century. See Eric H. Monkkonen, Police in Urban America, 1860–1920, at 77 (1981) (analyzing homicide arrest rates in large urban areas); Douglas Lee Eckberg, Estimates of Early Twentieth-Century U.S. Homicide Rates: An Econometric Forecasting Approach, 32 Demography 1, 10–12 (1995) (examining state-wide rates of violent death).

 [85]. The speech was widely covered in the popular and legal press. See, e.g., The Jury System in the United States and its Extension to the Philippines, 19 Harv. L. Rev. 224, 224 (1906); Exercises at Yale, Dallas Morning News, June 27, 1905, at 2.

 [86]. Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 12.

 [87]. Id.

 [88]. Root saw a widespread sense that law was “so voluminous and complicated as to be beyond the comprehension of plain men” and “the chances of injustice succeeding and of the criminal escaping are so great that judgment has little terror for the wrong doer.” Elihu Root, The Layman’s Criticism of the Lawyer, 26 Green Bag 471, 472 (1914) (reprinting Root’s address to the ABA annual meeting).

 [89]. Kepner v. United States, 195 U.S. 100, 134 (1904) (Holmes, J., dissenting).

 [90]. Everett P. Wheeler, Reform in Criminal Procedure, 4 Colum. L. Rev. 356, 356 (1904).

 [91]. 2 James Bryce, The American Commonwealth 581–82 (2d rev. ed. 1908).

 [92]. Alfred C. Coxe, The Law’s Delay, 1 Cornell L.J. 62, 65 (1894) [hereinafter Coxe, Law’s Delay]. See also Crime Goes Unpunished: Andrew D. White Presents Startling Statistics, N.Y. Times, Apr. 11, 1896, at 1 (presenting the same points from Andrew D. White of Cornell).

 [93]. Victor Rousseau, Lawless New York: Experts’ Opinions on the Causes of the Crimes that Clog the Courts and Break Down the Machinery of Justice, Part III, Harper’s Wkly., Jan. 2, 1909, at 17; Some Abuses of Criminal Law, Harper’s Wkly., May 11, 1895, at 433.

 [94]. Roscoe Pound, Inherent and Acquired Difficulties in the Administration of Punitive Justice, 4 Proc. Am. Pol. Sci. Ass’n 222, 222 (1907) [hereinafter Pound, Inherent].

 [95]. David J. Brewer, A Better Education the Great Need of the Profession, 18 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 441, 448–49 (1895) [hereinafter Brewer, Education].

 [96]. Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 2.

 [97]. See Report of the Special Committee to Suggest Remedies and Formulate Proposed Laws to Prevent Delay and Unnecessary Cost in Litigation, 31 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 542, 542 (1908).

 [98]. “The law’s delay was one of those things which suggested suicide to Hamlet.” Alfred Russell, Avoidable Causes of Delay and Uncertainty in Our Courts, The Annual Address Before the American Bar Association (Aug. 27, 1891). See William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, act. 3, sc. 1, line 71, at 70 (George Lyman Kittredge ed., 2008).

 [99]. See, e.g., Coxe, Law’s Delay supra note 92, at 62; Thomas F. Hargis, The Law’s Delay, 140 N. Am. Rev., 309, 309 (1885); Talcott H. Russell, The Law’s Delay, 2 Yale L.J. 95, 105 (1893); William H. Taft, The Delays of the Law, 18 Yale L.J. 28, 38 (1908) [hereinafter Taft, Delays]; The Law’s Delay, Philadelphia Inquirer, July 15, 1896, at 6; The Law’s Delay the Fault of the Law, Daily Picayune (New Orleans), Oct. 27, 1894, at 4; Topics of the Time: The Causes of the Law’s Delay, Century, June 1885, at 328. Thomas F. Hargis was a Kentucky lawyer and former chief justice of a state court of appeals. Talcott H. Russell was a Yale law professor and New Haven attorney. For an example of Root’s contributions to this literature, see Elihu Root, The Reform of Procedure, 11 The Brief 223, 229–30 (1911).

 [100]. The Law’s Delay Report, N.Y. Times, Jan. 17, 1904, at 6.

 [101]. See Wheeler Hazard Peckham, Albany Law School, http://www.albanylaw.edu/about
/history/Pages/Wheeler-Hazard-Peckham.aspx, (last visited Apr. 11, 2018).

 [102]. Roscoe Pound, The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 29 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 395, 408–09 (1906) [hereinafter Pound, Causes]. On Pound’s influence, see William M. Wiecek, The Lost World of Classical Legal Thought: Law and Ideology in America, 1886–1937, at 191–94 (1998).

 [103]. Roscoe Pound, Criminal Justice in America 161 (1930) [hereinafter Pound, Criminal] (speaking of late nineteenth century criminal procedure).

 [104]. Id. at 160. Accord Elihu Root, Reforms in Judicial Procedure: A Statement Before the Committee on the Judiciary of the House of Representatives, February 27, 1914, in Address on Government and Citizenship 467, 468 (Robert Bacon & James Brown Scott eds., 1916) (complaining of “systems of practice in which justice is tangled in the net of form”).

 [105]. See, e.g., Pound, Causes, supra note 102, at 413.

 [106]. See John M. Greabe, The Riddle of Harmless Error Revisited, 54 Hous. L. Rev. 59, 66–68 (2016). For an example discussing the need for such statutes, see Root, The Reforms of Procedure supra note 104, at 431, 441.

 [107]. See Michael Willrich, City of Courts: Socializing Justice in Progressive Era Chicago 58 (2003).

 [108]. See Imre Stephen Szalai, Outsourcing Justice: The Rise of Modern Arbitration Laws in America 9–10, 80–88 (2013).

 [109]. Hall, supra note 84, at 227–28.

 [110]. See Daniel R. Ernst, Law and American Political Development, 18771938, 26 Revs. Am. Hist. 205, 211 (1998); Stephen N. Subrin, How Equity Conquered Common Law: The Federal Rules of Civil Procedure in Historical Perspective, 135 U. Pa. L. Rev. 909, 918–26, 957–58 (1987).

 [111]. See Dennis Hale, The Jury in America: Triumph and Decline 146–47, 162 (2016).

 [112]. David. J. Brewer, The Jury, 5 Int’l Monthly 1, 1 (1902) [hereinafter Brewer, The Jury].

 [113]. Alfred C. Coxe, The Trials of Jury Trials, 1 Colum. L. Rev. 286, 288 (1901) [hereinafter Coxe, Trials].

 [114]. Thomas J. Kernan, The Jurisprudence of Lawlessness, 29 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 450, 450 (1906). Accord M. Romero, The Anglo-Saxon and Roman Systems of Criminal Jurisprudence, 8 Green Bag 410, 412 n.1 (1896) (quoting a Fort Worth attorney who complained to the Texas Bar Association that “our criminal law and procedure . . . is a stench in the nostrils of every honest and law-abiding man”).

 [115]. F.J. Cabot, Is Trial by Jury, in Criminal Cases, a Failure?, in 33 The Arena, 510, 510 (B.O. Flower ed., 1905).

 [116]. Hal W. Greer, Should Trial by Jury Be Abolished?, 42 Am. L. Rev. 192, 199 (1908).

 [117]. See Renée Lettow Lerner, The Rise of Directed Verdict: Jury Power in Civil Cases Before the Federal Rules of 1938, 81 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 448, 486–87 (2013) [hereinafter Lerner, Directed Verdict].

 [118]. Hall, supra note 84, at 107.

 [119]. Id. at 107–08.

 [120]. Id. at 108.

 [121]. Id. at 172.

 [122]. Hale, supra note 111, at 140–42.

 [123]. See, e.g., Fiss, supra note 5, at 37–40 (noting many of these trends); Wiecek, supra note 102, at 64–70 (same).

 [124]. Wiecek, supra note 102, at 79. See also Lerner, Directed Verdict, supra note 117, at 487 (diagnosing causes of dissatisfaction with the jury).

 [125]. See, e.g., Charles O. Bates, Juries and Jury Trials, 4 Am. Law. 18, 21 (1896); Good Juries, N.Y. Times, Jan. 6, 1898, at 8.

 [126]. William K. Townsend, The Threatened Annihilation of the Judge-and-Jury System, Forum, Sept. 1896, at 107. Accord State v. Albee, 61 N.H. 423, 427 (1881); A.T. Brewer, The Jury System—Objections to It, 5 Mich. L.J. 50, 52 (1896) [hereinafter Brewer, The Jury System]; Cabot, supra note 115, at 510; Coxe, Law’s Delay, supra note 92, at 63; George W. Alger, American Discontent with Criminal Law, Outlook, June 15, 1907, at 321.

 [127]. Our Jury System, Nation, May 9, 1895, at 357. See also Reform of Our Jury System, Nation, June 30, 1887, at 546 (stating that the jury system “puts the decision of questions of the utmost importance, involving even life itself, into the hands of men whom in private life no intelligent person would think of consulting on any subject of moment”).

 [128]. Orville C. McLaughlin, Trial by Jury, 64 Albany L.J. 286, 289 (1902). For a similar argument, see E.W. McGraw, Is the Jury System a Failure?, Californian, May 1881, at 412. Edward McGraw was a U.S. attorney in Oregon Territory and then a prominent San Francisco lawyer.

 [129]. Pleasants v. Fant, 89 U.S. (1 Wall.) 116, 121 (1874) (cited in Renée Lettow Lerner, The Failure of Originalism in Preserving Constitutional Rights to Civil Jury Trial, 22 Wm. & Mary Bill Rts. J. 811, 849 (2014) [hereinafter Lerner, Originalism]). See also Hayes v. Missouri, 120 U.S. 68, 70 (1887) (endorsing the peremptory challenge, which “[e]xperience has shown [to be] one of the most effective means to free the jury-box from men unfit to be there,” especially in communities where there are difficulties “securing intelligent and impartial jurors”). For other claims that jurors could not understand complex matters, especially commercial, see Brewer, The Jury System, supra note 126, at 51; S.M. Bruce, The Jury System, 40 Am. L. Rev. 222, 236 (1906); Coxe, Trials, supra note 113, at 291–92; John C. Dodge, Trial by Jury in Civil Suits, 48 Atlantic Monthly, July 1881, at 9, 14; McGraw, supra note 128, at 412; The Jury System and Its Defects, N.Y. Times, Sept. 25, 1867, at 4.

 [130]. Alger, supra note 126, at 321.

 [131]. Pound, Criminal, supra note 103, at 125. See also Pound, Inherent, supra note 94, at 236 (criticizing “jury-lawlessness”). Pound was not alone in making this criticism. See Thomas A. Green, Freedom and Criminal Responsibility in the Age of Pound: An Essay on Criminal Justice, 93 Mich. L. Rev. 1915, 1946 (1995) (noting that “fin de siècle . . . jurists roundly criticized the jury from many angles, including importantly that institution’s supposed adherence to ‘frontier justice’”). See generally Wiecek, supra note 102, at 79 (noting the concerns at this time by Supreme Court justices and other legal elites about “diminished respect for law”).

 [132]. William H. Taft, Delays and Defects in the Enforcement of the Law in this Country, 187 N. Am. Rev. 851, 857–59 (1908) [hereinafter Taft, Defects]. See also Our Judges Lack Power, Says Taft, N.Y. Times, May 14, 1911, at 16 (reporting on Taft opining that the administration of the criminal law in the United States was hampered because people have “lighter regard for law and its enforcement” than is necessary).

 [133]. Russell, supra note 98, at 4. Russell had been the U.S. district attorney in Detroit and then was a successful business lawyer and bar leader in that city. On the transition in legal practice from courtroom advocate to counselor, see Wayne K. Hobson, The American Legal Profession and the Organizational Society, 1890–1930, at 36–37, 67, 141–42 (Harold Hyman & Stuart Bruchey, eds., 1986); James Willard Hurst, The Growth of American Law: The Law Makers 297–308 (1950).

 [134]. Lawrence M. Friedman, A History of American Law 353 (3d ed. 2005). See also, e.g., John W. Hinsdale, The Jury System, 9 Okla. L.J. 169, 170–71 (1910); Is Our Jury System a Failure?, N.Y. Times, July 8, 1906, at SM1. Hinsdale was president of the North Carolina Bar Association.

 [135]. See Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Path of the Law, 10 Harv. L. Rev. 457, 466–68 (1897). See also Morton J. Horwitz, The Transformation of American Law, 18701960: The Crisis of Legal Orthodoxy 116 (1992) (situating Holmes in a latter-nineteenth century style of legal thought that, among other things, decried “the arbitrary character of juries and . . . their penchant for favoring the noncorporate plaintiff”).

 [136]. See, e.g., Russell, supra note 98, at 11 (stating that the civil jury had “outgrown its usefulness” and was probably “the chief cause, of delay and uncertainty in our courts”).

 [137]. See generally John G. Sproat, “The Best Men”: Liberal Reformers in the Gilded Age (1968) (discussing elite reform movements and reformers of that period).

 [138]. Hobson, supra note 133, at 221. See also id. at 257.

 [139]. See Willrich, supra note 107, at xxxii, 82; Charles M. Haar & Michael Allan Wolf, Commentary, Euclid Lives: The Survival of Progressive Jurisprudence, 115 Harv. L. Rev. 2158, 2182–83 (2002).

 [140]. See supra notes 8496 and accompanying text.

 [141]. Lerner, Directed Verdict, supra note 117, at 490.

 [142]. See, e.g., Hinsdale, supra note 134, at 170; McGraw, supra note 128, at 412; Edson R. Sunderland, The Inefficiency of the American Jury, 13 Mich. L. Rev. 302, 306 (1915); Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 3–4; Edward A. Thomas, Shall the Jury System Be Retained?, Forum, Mar. 1887, at 102.

 [143]. Blackstone, Commentaries, supra note 31, at *343–52. 

 [144]. Brewer, The Jury System, supra note 126, at 53. Mark Twain, an acerbic critic of juries, famously poked fun at this obscure and constantly intoned metaphor. See 1 Mark Twain, Roughing It 358 (Hamlin Hill ed., Penguin Books 1981). The original palladium was a statue of Pallas Athena on which the safety of Troy was said to depend, which of course made it a tempting target for theft by wily Odysseus.

 [145]. Coxe, Law’s Delay, supra note 92, at 63. See also Against the Jury, Bos. Daily Advert., Aug. 28, 1891, at 1 (“The modern inventions which have so greatly quickened the transportation of persons and property, the transmission of intelligence and all business operations, inspire the public with the belief that the movements of lawyers and judges can and should be hastened.”).

 [146]. Harvey Storck, The Jury System, 29 Albany L.J. 424, 425 (1884).

 [147]. Coxe, Law’s Delay, supra note 92, at 63. Accord William A. Blount, The Struggle for Simplification of Legal Procedure: The Goals and Its Attainment, 36 Ann. Rep. A.B.A. 456, 463–64 (1913); Brewer, The Jury System, supra note 126, at 51; Taft, Defects, supra note 132, at 851; Alger, supra note 126, at 321; Editorial, The Obsolete Jury System, Wkly. Trib.: Salt Lake City, June 16, 1887, at 4; Townsend, supra note 126, at 107.  In 1899, the U.S. Supreme Court approved the expansion of justice of the peace civil jurisdiction in the District of Columbia by noting that the legislature must be given discretion to act “with a view to prevent unnecessary delay and unreasonable expense” of jury trials. Capital Traction Co. v. Hof, 174 U.S. 1, 44 (1899).

 [148]. Blount, supra note 147, at 458.

 [149]. Brewer, Education, supra note 95, at 446–47.

 [150]. Bruce, supra note 129, at 236.

 [151]. See R.H. Helmholz, Use of the Civil Law in Post-Revolutionary American Jurisprudence, 66 Tul. L. Rev. 1649, 1653, 1666–67 (1992).

 [152]. See William Hale Beckford, The Spanish Civil Code, 49 Am. L. Reg. 89, 89–90 (1901); Charles S. Lobingier, Blending Legal Systems in the Philippines, 21 L.Q. Rev. 401, 401–02 (1905).

 [153]. See, e.g., William Wirt Howe, Roman and Civil Law in America, 16 Harv. L. Rev. 342, 357 (1903); James H. MacLeary, The Administration of Justice in Porto Rico, 7 Ill. L. Rev. 77, 84 (1912); Alfred F. Sears Jr., The Common Law and the Civil Law, 5 Am. Law. 305, 306 (1897).

 [154]. See, e.g., Dodge, supra note 129, at 14; McGraw, supra note 128, at 412; Russell, supra note 98, at 13.

 [155]. See, e.g., Against the Jury, supra note 145, at 1; English and American Jury Systems, Daily Evening Bull. (S.F.), Aug. 24, 1889, at 2; The Constitutional Jury, Dall. Morning News, May 12, 1890, at 4; The Grand-Jury: Leading Lawyers Discuss the Merits of the Institution, St. Louis Republic, Nov. 16, 1890, at 4; Trial by Jury, New Haven Evening Reg., Apr. 9, 1896, at 4; Would Abolish Grand Jury: Magistrate Cornell’s Criticism Aroused by a Case Settled Out of Court, N.Y. Times, Aug. 28, 1909, at 6.

 [156]. John Freeman Baker, Should Trials by Jury Be Abolished, 66 Alb. L.J. 307, 307 (1904). See also Robert Y. Hayne, Shall the Jury System Be Abolished?, 4 N. Am. Rev. 348, 348 (1884); Lawrence Irwell, The Case Against Jury Trials in Civil Actions, 54 Cent. L.J. 243, 243 (1902); George Lawyer, Should the Grand Jury System Be Abolished, 15 Yale L.J. 178, 178 (1905); Albert Stickney, Is the Jury System a Failure?, Century, Nov. 1882, at 124.

 [157]. See, e.g., Henry Clay Caldwell, Trial by Judge and Jury, 33 Am. L. Rev. 321, 321 (1899) (reprinting a speech to the annual meeting of the Missouri State Bar Association by a U.S. circuit judge); Joseph H. Choate, Trial by Jury, 6 Am. Law. 325, 325 (1898) (reprinting a speech by the ABA’s president to that group’s annual meeting).

 [158]. See Robert W. Gordon, The American Legal Profession, 1870–2000, in 3 The Cambridge History of Law in America: The Twentieth Century and After (1920–) 73, 75–77 (Michael Grossberg & Christopher Tomlins, eds., 2008); Hobson, supra note 133, at 217, 230–34.

 [159]. See, e.g., Morris Waite, The Jury System, Puck, Apr. 16, 1890, at 118.

 [160]. Pound, Causes, supra note 102, at 401 (discussing civil jury); Pound, Inherent, supra note 94, at 235–36 (discussing criminal jury).

 [161]. Note, Should Jury Trials Be Abolished?, 3 Mich. L.J. 169, 172 (1894).

 [162]. Rufus B. Smith, The Failure of the Administration of the Law in Civil Cases in Ohio, Address Before the Cincinnati Bar Association (Jan. 21, 1896), in Columbus, Ohio Weekly Law Bull. Print 15 (1896). See also Trial by Jury, N.Y. Times, June 1, 1871, at 4 (stating that the unanimity rule “puts it in the power of one stupid or prejudiced person to block the course of justice altogether”).

 [163]. See, e.g., A. Caperton Braxton, The Civil Jury, Address Before the New York State Bar Association (Dec. 12. 1903), in Twenty-Seventh Ann. Meeting: Proc. of the N.Y. St. B. Ass’n 45, 45–55 (1903); Coxe, Trials, supra note 113, at 292; Robert Earl, Reforms in Jury Trials, 63 Albany L.J. 10, 11 (1901); Hargis, supra note 99, at 314; McLaughlin, supra note 128, at 286–89.

 [164]. See, e.g., Bates, supra note 125, at 21; Our Jury System: Views of Ex-President Hayes, 25 J. Prison Discipline 81, 81 (1890). See also The Cronin Verdict, 33 Harper’s Wkly., Dec. 28, 1889, at 1030 (decrying the “miscarriage of justice through the requirement of unanimity in the jury” in a criminal case). Interestingly, Root opposed removing the unanimity requirement in civil cases at the 1894 New York State constitutional convention, arguing that the people of the state were not discontented with the existing jury system. See Elihu Root, Trial by Jury: Address Before New York State Constitutional Convention of 1894, July 17, 1894, in Address on Government and Citizenship 121–22 (Robert Bacon & James Brown Scott eds., 1916)[hereinafter Root, Trial by Jury].

 [165]. Hurtado v. California, 110 U.S. 516, 529–30 (1884).

 [166]. See Lerner, Originalism, supra note 129, at 821 n.58.

 [167]. See S. Chesterfield Oppenheim, Waiver of Trial by Jury in Criminal Cases, 25 Mich. L. Rev. 695, 700 (1927); Stephen A. Siegel, The Constitution on Trial: Article III’s Jury Trial Provision, Originalism, and the Problem of Motivated Reasoning, 52 Santa Clara L. Rev. 373, 421 (2012). Justice Henry Brown of the Supreme Court criticized this rigidity. See Henry B. Brown, Judicial Independence, A Paper Read at the Meeting of the American Bar Association 9–10 (Philadelphia, Dando Printing & Pub. Co. 1889) [hereinafter Brown, Judicial Independence].

 [168]. Henry B. Brown, The Administration of the Jury System, 17 Green Bag 623, 623 (1905) [hereinafter Brown, Administration]. See generally Donald A. Dripps, The Fourteenth Amendment, the Bill of Rights, and the (First) Criminal Procedure Revolution, 18 J. Contemp. Legal Issues 469, 477–94 (2009) (discussing state-level grand jury reforms in the nineteenth century).

 [169]. John Burton Phillips, Modifications of the Jury System, 16 Green Bag 514, 519 (1904). See also Robert von Moschzisker, Trial by Jury 292–94 (1922).

 [170]. Brown, Administration, supra note 168, at 623; Ben B. Lindsey, The Unanimity of Jury Verdicts and the Recent Law Abolishing Same, 2 Legal Adviser 389, 389–91 (1899); Phillips, supra note 169, at 514. See also Moschzisker, supra note 169, at 295–96; Lerner, Originalism, supra note 129, at 822 n.59.

 [171]. Ben B. Lindsey, The Unanimity of Jury Verdicts, 5 Va. L. Reg. 133, 135–36 (1899). See also Lerner, Originalism, supra note 129, at 822 n.60.

 [172]. See Colo. Const, art. II, § 23 (1876) (making “inviolate” “the right of trial by jury . . . in criminal cases” but not civil).

 [173]. La. Const., art. IX (1898). See also id. art. CXVI (allowing non-unanimous jury verdicts in non-capital criminal cases where the punishment is imprisonment at hard labor).

 [174]. See Lerner, Directed Verdict, supra note 117, at 473.

 [175]. See William E. Forbath, The Shaping of the American Labor Movement, 102 Harv. L. Rev. 1109, 1160–61, 1180–81 (1989). Taft defended this avoidance of the jury because juries introduced “delay,” “uncertainties and digressions and prejudices.” William H. Taft, Labor and Capital, Address Before the Cooper Institute (Jan. 10, 1908), in William H. Taft, Present Day Problems: A Collection of Addresses Delivered on Various Occasions 241, 270–71 (1908). 

 [176]. Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 6. See also, e.g., Robert B. Tripp, Ought There Not to Be Changes in the Law with Reference to Jury Trials in Civil Cases, in Report of the Eighth Annual Meeting of the South Dakota Bar Association 94, 107–08 (1908); Brewer, Jury, supra note 126, at 51–54; Coxe, Trials, supra note 113, at 291–92; Against the Jury, supra note 145, at 1.

 [177]. See, e.g., Brewer, The Jury System, supra note 126, at 51–54; Michael S. Loeb, An Outline of a New System of Trial by Jury, 7 Am. Law. 335, 335 (1899); Thomas, supra note 142, at 102; Jury Reform, Daily Picayune (New Orleans), Feb. 15, 1887, at 4; The Constitutional Jury, Dall. Morning News, May 12, 1890, at 4.

 [178]. Williams, supra note 84, at 150.

 [179]. See Lerner, Directed Verdict, supra note 117, at 505 (“At the turn of the century, opinion among certain judges and legal commentators started to shift in favor of greater jury autonomy.”).

 [180]. Lawrence M. Friedman, Crime and Punishment in American History 249–53 (1993).

 [181]. Id. at 250–51.

 [182]. See Choate, supra note 157, at 326–27. In addition to Choate, Henry Clay Caldwell, a federal appellate judge praised the jury in a public address. For an example of the judge praising the jury, see Henry Clay Caldwell, Trial by Judge and Jury, 33 Am. L. Rev. 321, 334 (1899) (reprinting an address by a federal appellate judge to the annual meeting of the Missouri State Bar Association calling “indisputable” the “immense superiority” of the jury “to any other mode of trial in criminal cases”).

 [183]. Dwight Foster, Advantages of the Jury System, 135 N. Am. Rev. 447, 447 (1882).

 [184]. Brewer, The Jury, supra note 112, at 2, 4, 6.

 [185]. Coxe, Trials, supra note 113, at 289.

 [186]. Id. at 291–92.

 [187]. George W. Biddle, Vice President of the American Bar Association, An Inquiry into the Proper Mode of Trial, Annual Address Delivered Before the American Bar Association (Aug. 20, 1885).

 [188]. Brown, Judicial Independence, supra note 167, at 24–25. Another prominent, elite lawyer who recognized the validity of some criticism, but defended the fundamental soundness of the jury was John F. Dillon. He was a state supreme court justice, U.S. circuit judge, Columbia and Yale law professor, president of the ABA, prominent author, and private attorney. See John F. Dillon, The Laws and Jurisprudence of England and America: Being a Series of Lectures Delivered Before Yale University 121–26, 131–32 (Boston, Little, Brown & Co. 1894).

 [189]. John Norton Pomeroy, An Introduction to Municipal Law 209 § 349 (2d ed., S.F., Bancroft-Whitney Co. 1886).

 [190]. Thomas M. Cooley, The Administration of Justice in the United States of America in Civil Cases, 2 Mich. L.J. 341, 342 (1893).

 [191]. Thomas M. Cooley, Labor and Capital Before the Law, 139 N. Am. Rev. 503, 503 (1884). On these aspects of the thought of Cooley and Pomeroy, see Jonathan Zasloff, Law and the Shaping of American Foreign Policy: From the Gilded Age to the New Era, 78 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 239, 259–61 (2003).

 [192]. See Wiecek, supra note 102, at 99–100; Stephen A. Siegel, Historism in Late Nineteenth-Century Constitutional Thought, 1990 Wisc. L. Rev. 1431, 1458, 1496, 1519 (1990).

 [193]. Pomeroy, supra note 189, § 349.

 [194]. See, e.g., William H. Taft, The Attacks on the Courts and Legal Procedure, 5 Ky. L.J. 3, 5–6 (1916). On the other hand, by the end of the nineteenth century in at least eighteen states, the legislature had codified criminal procedure. See David Dudley Field, American Progress in Jurisprudence, 44 Am. L. Reg. & Rev. 541, 549 (1896).

 [195]. Jed Handelsman Shugerman, The People’s Courts: Pursuing Judicial Independence in America 162 (2012).

 [196]. See Renée Lettow Lerner, The Transformation of the American Civil Trial: The Silent Judge, 42 Wm. & Mary L. Rev. 195, 241–42 (2000).

 [197]. Sunderland, supra note 142, at 307–08.

 [198]. Id. at 308 n.32.

 [199]. See Our Judges Lack Power, Says Taft, N.Y. Times, May 14, 1911, at 16. See also Alger, supra note 126, at 324.

 [200]. Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 12.

 [201]. Our Judges Lack Power, Says Taft, supra note 199, at 16. The Nation criticized this type of legislation as an attempt “to emasculate the court.” The Week, Nation, Oct. 29, 1896, at 320.

 [202]. Brown, Administration, supra note 168, at 624. Brown gave an address to the ABA in 1889 arguing that statutes empowering juries might be unconstitutional infringements on the traditional power of judges. See Brown, Judicial Independence, supra note 167, at 10–17.

 [203]. Christina Ponsa-Kraus has previously argued that the fact that the Supreme Court interpreted the Fourteenth Amendment to allow states to limit or deny traditional jury rights “undermines the standard account of the Insular Cases, with its claim that the Constitution applied in full in incorporated places—which, of course, included the states first and foremost—and not in unincorporated places.” Burnett, Untied States, supra note 26, at 838.

 [204]. The one exception was the principle that private property could not be taken for public use without just compensation. See Chicago, Burlington & Quincy R.R. v. Chicago, 166 U.S. 226, 236 (1897).

 [205]. See supra note 9 and accompanying text.

 [206]. See, e.g., Lem Woon v. Oregon, 229 U.S. 586, 589–90 (1913); Maxwell v. Dow, 176 U.S. 581, 584–85 (1900); Bolln v. Nebraska, 176 U.S. 83, 86 (1900); Hodgson v. Vermont, 168 U.S. 262, 272–73 (1897); McNulty v. California, 149 U.S. 645, 648 (1893); Hurtado v. California, 110 U.S. 516, 538 (1884).

 [207]. See, e.g., Kennard v. Louisiana ex rel. Morgan, 92 U.S. 480, 483 (1875) (upholding a statute that provided that disputes as to who was entitled to hold judicial office would be tried to a court not a jury); Walker v. Sauvinet, 92 U.S. 90, 93 (1875) (upholding a statute that provided that a judge would decide facts in a civil case if the jury was deadlocked). During this period, the Court also rejected the claim that Sixth and Seventh Amendment jury rights applied to trials in state courts. See Brooks v. Missouri, 124 U.S. 394, 397 (1888) (concerning the Sixth Amendment); Edwards v. Elliott, 88 U.S. (1 Wall.) 532, 557 (1874) (concerning the Seventh Amendment). This reiterated the holding from Barron v. Mayor of Baltimore, 32 U.S. (1 Pet.) 243, 250 (1833), that the Bill of Rights provided “security against the apprehended encroachments of the general government—not against those of the local governments.”

 [208]. Justice Harlan dissented alone in Hurtado, Bolln, and Maxwell. See also Brown v. New Jersey, 175 U.S. 172, 177 (1899) (rejecting a Fourteenth Amendment challenge to a struck jury statute—a method of impaneling jurors—with Justice Harlan being the sole Justice to concur, rather than join the majority opinion); Hayes v. Missouri, 120 U.S. 68, 68 (1887) (rejecting a Fourteenth Amendment challenge to a statute regarding peremptory challenges of jurors, with Justice Harlan being the sole dissenter).

 [209]. See, e.g., Maxwell, 176 U.S. at 594, 596.

 [210]. Jordan v. Massachusetts, 225 U.S. 167, 176 (1912).

 [211]. Missouri v. Lewis, 101 U.S. 22, 31 (1879).

 [212]. Holden v. Hardy, 169 U.S. 366, 389 (1898). Though the decision contained much dicta about jury rights and judicial procedure, the merits question concerned the constitutionality of an eight-hour workday statute. Thus, Justice Harlan joined the majority opinion, and two strong defenders of property rights and liberty of contract, Justices Peckham and Brewer, were the only dissenters.

 [213]. See Francis Lieber, The Unanimity of Juries, 15 Am. L. Reg. 727, 728–29 (1866); Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 5.

 [214]. Justice Henry Brown told the ABA in 1889 that the states had “undoubted power to modify or curtail the right of trial by jury, or even to abolish it altogether.” Brown, Judicial Independence, supra note 167, at 11.

 [215]. Hallinger v. Davis, 146 U.S. 314, 324 (1892).

 [216]. Maxwell v. Dow, 176 U.S. 581, 602–04 (1900).

 [217]. Hallinger, 146 U.S. at 324.

 [218]. These other provisions include, for example, Article III, § 2, the Sixth Amendment (criminal petit jury), the Seventh Amendment (civil petit jury for cases at common law), and the Grand Jury Clause of the Fifth Amendment.

 [219]. See Hurtado v. California, 110 U.S. 516, 535–36 (1884).

 [220]. See id.

 [221]. Jordan v. Massachusetts, 225 U.S. 167, 176 (1912). See also Maxwell, 176 U.S. at 595; Holden v. Hardy, 169 U.S. 366, 389–90 (1898); Hurtado, 110 U.S. at 533–35; Davidson v. New Orleans, 96 U.S. 97, 105 (1877); Kennard v. Louisiana ex rel. Morgan, 92 U.S. 480, 483 (1875); Walker v. Sauvinet, 92 U.S. 90, 93 (1875).

 [222]. In re Kemmler, 136 U.S. 436, 448 (1890). See also Brown v. New Jersey, 175 U.S. 172, 175 (1899) (“The State has full control over the procedure in its courts, both in civil and criminal cases, subject only to the qualification that such procedure must not work a denial of fundamental rights or conflict with specific and applicable provisions of the Federal Constitution.”).

 [223]. Also, in 1891, the Court held that a murder trial of a seaman on an American-flagged vessel in a U.S. consular court in Japan was not unconstitutional for depriving the accused of a grand jury indictment and a trial by jury. See Ross v. McIntyre (In re Ross), 140 U.S. 453, 453, 461 (1891).

 [224]. See Slaughter-House Cases, 83 U.S. (1 Wall.) 36, 7480 (1872).

 [225]. Maxwell, 176 U.S. at 590–91.

 [226]. Hurtado, 110 U.S. at 529–31.

 [227]. Holden v. Hardy, 169 U.S. 366, 385–86 (1898).

 [228]. Id.  

 [229]. Id. at 386–87.

 [230]. Id. at 387.

 [231]. Id. See also Bolln v. Nebraska, 176 U.S. 83, 88–89 (1900) (“[T]he Fourteenth Amendment was not intended to curtail the powers of the states to so amend their laws as to make them conform to the wishes of their citizens, to changed views of administration, or to the exigencies of their social life.”); Brown v. New Jersey, 175 U.S. 172, 175 (1899) (“The State is not tied down by any provision of the Federal Constitution to the practice and procedure which existed at the common law . . . [I]t may avail itself of the wisdom gathered by the experience of the century to make such changes as may be necessary.”).

 [232]. Holden, 169 U.S. at 383–84. See Gerard N. Magliocca, Why Did the Incorporation of the Bill of Rights Fail in the Late Nineteenth Century?, 94 Minn. L. Rev. 102, 106 (2009) (showing that “lawyers at this time drew a sharp distinction between substantive rights, which were fundamental and unalterable, and procedural forms, which were subject to improvement and should not be constitutionally fixed”).

 [233]. Twining v. New Jersey, 211 U.S. 78, 101 (1908) (citation omitted). Holmes put the general point—that law should be allowed to change and adapt to present needs—more acerbically when he wrote that “[i]t is revolting to have no better reason for a rule of law than that so it was laid down in the time of Henry IV.” Holmes, supra note 135, at 469.

 [234]. Even though it has incorporated most provisions of the Bill of Rights against the states via the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause, the modern Supreme Court has not incorporated the grand jury or civil jury guarantees. See McDonald v. Chicago, 561 U.S. 742, 765 n.13 (2010). It has incorporated the right to a jury trial in criminal cases. Id. at 766 n.14. The modern Court’s case law about incorporation of the common law and the Sixth Amendment’s unanimity and twelve-person rules in criminal cases is complex. See generally Burch v. Louisiana, 441 U.S. 130 (1979) (holding unconstitutional the use of a non-unanimous six-person jury); Ballew v. Georgia, 435 U.S. 223 (1978) (holding unconstitutional the use of a five-person unanimous jury); Apodaca v. Oregon, 406 U.S. 404 (1972) (upholding the use of a twelve-person jury which may convict 10–2); Johnson v. Louisiana, 406 U.S. 356 (1972) (upholding the use of a twelve-person jury which may convict 9–3); Williams v. Florida, 399 U.S. 78 (1970) (upholding the use of a unanimous six-person jury).

 [235]. 1 Report of the Philippine Commission to the President, S. Doc. No. 56-138, at 109 (1900) [hereinafter Schurman Commission Report].

 [236]. Id. at 107.

 [237]. Elihu Root, Report of The Secretary of War, Annual Reports of the War Department, H.R. Doc. No. 56-2, at 24 (1899) [hereinafter Root, Report].

 [238]. 1 Jessup, supra note 37, at 346.

 [239]. Root, Report, supra note 237, at 24–25.

 [240]. See U.S. Const., amends. V, XIV.

 [241]. See Chicago, Burlington & Quincy R.R. v. Chicago, 166 U.S. 226, 236 (1897).

 [242]. Root, Report, supra note 237, at 27.

 [243]. Id. at 29.

 [244]. Id. at 30.

 [245]. William McKinley, The President’s Instructions to the Commission, reprinted in Annual Reports of the War Department, Public Laws and Resolutions Passed by the Philippine Comm’n 8 (1901) [hereinafter McKinley, Instructions]. 

 [246]. 1 Pringle, supra note 35, at 182.

 [247]. McKinley, Instructions, supra note 245, at 8–9. 

 [248]. 1 Pringle, supra note 35, at 182–83 (citation omitted).

 [249]. 1 Jessup, supra note 37, at 345.

 [250]. See, e.g., Held by Mr. M’Kinley; Views of the President as to Trade with Islands, Wash. Post, Feb. 18, 1900, at 1 (reporting the president’s view that “Congress is not bound by the limitations of the Constitution when it enters upon the task of legislating” for Puerto Rico and the Philippines).

 [251]. See Graham A. Cosmas, An Army for Empire 312–16 (1994). See also David J. Silbey, A War of Frontier and Empire: The Philippine-American War, 18991902, at 130–34 (2007).

 [252]. Silbey, supra note 251, at 157–80. See also Benjamin Allen Coates, Legalist Empire: International Law and American Foreign Relations in the Early Twentieth Century 49 (2016).

 [253]. W.F. Norris, The Criminal Code of the Philippines, 15 Green Bag 433, 433 (1903). William Norris was a judge in the Court of First Instance in the Philippines.

 [254]. Lt. Col. E.H. Crowder, Report of the Secretary to the U.S. Military Governor in the Philippine Islands, Annual Reports of the War Department, H.R. Doc. No. 56-2, at 5 (1900) [hereinafter Crowder, Report]. 

 [255]. Id.

 [256]. Id.

 [257]. Id. at 19. See also Charles Sumner Lobingier, Civil Law Rights Through Common-Law Remedies: A Resume of the Progress of Legal Fusion in the Philippines, 20 Jurid. Rev. 97, 103 (1908); Lebbeus R. Wilfley, The New Philippine Judiciary, 178 N. Am. Rev. 730, 732 (1904). Lobingier was a professor of law at the University of Nebraska and then a judge of the Court of First Instance in the Philippines (1904–14). Wilfley was a Missouri attorney who served as Attorney General of the Philippines (1901–06).

 [258]. James H. Blount, Some Legal Aspects of the Philippines, 14 Am. Law. 495, 495 (1906) [hereinafter Blount, Legal Aspects]. Accord Wilfley, supra note 257, at 732. Blount served in the U.S. Army in Cuba and the Philippines, and then was a judge on the Court of First Instance in the Philippines (1901–05). He became a strong critic of U.S. colonial policy there. See The American Occupation of the Philippines, 18981912, 2 J. Pol. Econ. 171, 171–72 (1913) (reviewing a book by James H. Blount).

 [259]. Lobingier, supra note 257, at 98.

 [260]. Crowder, Report, supra note 254, at 18.

 [261]. Norris, supra note 253, at 435. See also William H. Taft, The People of the Philippine Islands, Independent, May 8, 1902, at 1091 [hereinafter Taft, People].

 [262]. Wilfley, supra note 257, at 732.

 [263]. Report of Major-Gen. Otis, Office of the U.S. Military Governor in the Philippine Islands, General Orders No. 58 (1900) [hereinafter General Orders No. 58].

 [264]. See, e.g., United States v. Laguna, 17 Phil. Rep. 532, 532 (S.C., Dec. 20, 1910).

 [265]. Lobingier, supra note 257, at 98–99.

 [266]. William M. Connor, Philippine Public Law and Its Constitutional Relation to the United States, 10 Va. L. Rev. 257, 263 (1924).

 [267]. Id.

 [268]. Id. at 257.

 [269]. General Orders No. 58, supra note 263, §§ 6, 15(1), 15(2), 15(5), 15(6).

 [270]. Id. § 55.

 [271]. Id. §§ 15(3), 15(4).

 [272]. Id. § 15(7).

 [273]. Id. § 57. See also id. § 59 (“the burden of proof of guilt shall be upon the prosecution”).

 [274]. Id. § 17.

 [275]. Office of the U.S. Military Governor in the Philippine Islands, General Orders No. 47, as reprinted in Index to General Orders and Circulars Issued From the Office of the U.S. Military Governor in the Philippine Islands (1899). In 1924, a U.S. judge advocate general reported that the Philippine bar had admirably performed its duty to provide free representation to the indigent. See Connor, supra note 266, at 278.

 [276]. General Orders No. 58, supra note 263, §§ 27–28.

 [277]. Id. § 63.

 [278]. Id. § 77.

 [279]. Id. §§ 97, 99.

 [280]. Blount, Legal Aspects, supra note 258, at 496; F.C. Fisher, Some Peculiarities of Philippine Criminal Law and Procedure, 19 Va. L. Rev. 33, 33 (1932).

 [281]. For Filipino Autonomy: Native Would Form Territories to Become States Later, N.Y. Times, Dec. 21, 1900, at 5.

 [282]. 2 Schurman Commission Report, supra note 235, at 56. Pedro A. Paterno, a mestizo (mixed Spanish-Filipino parentage) who had served as an informal interlocutor between Spanish officials and Filipino insurgents in 1897 and 1898, see Teodoro A. Agoncillo, History of the Filipino People 184 (8th ed. 1990), created in 1898 a plan for a Filipino autonomous government under Spanish sovereignty that included a jury trial right. See                                           1 Schurman Commission Report, supra note 235, at 229–30 ex. VII.

 [283]. “Even among that class of persons in these Islands who are fairly well educated, I do not believe that we could expect them to have the stability of judgment which would be necessary for them to pass fairly and justly upon questions that a jury would have to decide.” Hearings Before the Secretary of War and the Congressional Party Accompanying Him to the Philippine Islands 104 (1905).

 [284]. Taft, People, supra note 261, at 1103.

 [285]. See Clara Altman, Courtroom Colonialism: Philippine Law and U.S. Rule, 1898–1935 (Aug. 2014) (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Brandeis University).

 [286]. See Manifesto of the Federal Party (1905). Its 1900 platform, for example, called for “Individual rights, liberties and guaranties of person, property and domicile, together with freedom of conscience and absolute separation of church and state.” Id. at 19. Its 1905 Manifesto contained recommendations on “The Administration of Justice,” including “[r]eform of the law of criminal procedure, declaring inadmissible as proof against the accused any confession.” Id. at 13–14. That a call for a jury trial did not make it into the 1905 Manifesto is interesting because of press reports that “[t]he convention of the Federal party has decided to petition Congress to authorize Secretary of War Taft on his arrival in Manila to institute trial by jury.” Demands for Philippines: Liberal Party for Trial by Jury and Tariff Reduction, N.Y. Times, June 4, 1905, at 4.

     [287].       In mainland Spain, the government introduced the criminal jury in 1872, suspended it in 1875, and restored in 1888; it was never introduced in the Philippines. See Brief of the Solicitor General for the United States at 14, Kepner v. United States, 195 U.S. 100 (1904) (No. 244), Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138 (1904) (No. 583), and Mendezona v. United States, 195 U.S. 158 (1904) (No. 584) (joint brief) [hereinafter Brief of the Solicitor General].

 [288]. See Agoncillo, supra note 282, at 206–08; Joaquin G. Bernas, Filipino Consciousness of Civil and Political Rights, 25 Philippine Stud. 163, 167–68 (1977). A constitution drafted by other Filipino revolutionaries, for the so-called Republic of Negros (Negros was one of the islands in the archipelago), did contain the right to criminal and civil jury trial. See 1 Schurman Commission Report, supra note 235, at 204.

 [289]. 35 Cong. Rec. 6078, 6082 (1902). The Republican-led Senate voted down an amendment by Senator Patterson (D-Colo.) to require by statute jury trial in the Philippines. See Philippine Bill Passes the Senate, N.Y. Times, June 4, 1902, at 1.

 [290]. Affairs in the Philippine Islands: Hearings Before the Comm. on the Philippines, 57th Cong. 304 (1902).

 [291]. Pomeroy, supra note 189, § 349.

 [292]. By contrast, the jury was deeply rooted in the soil in mainland America. When Root opposed changing the civil jury unanimity requirement at the 1894 New York State constitutional convention, see supra note 164 and accompanying text, he stated that “the existing condition of things” should not be changed based on “theory,” but rather reformers should “proceed cautiously, slowly, holding on to that which is good, and changing only when we are certain that a change will be an improvement.” Root, Trial by Jury, supra note 164, at 121.

 [293]. Potter, supra note 24, at 5.

 [294]. Taft, People, supra note 261, at 1100. See also Affairs in the Philippine Islands, supra note 290, at 283 (reporting Taft’s testimony that “[n]inety per cent of the people are so ignorant that they could not sit on the jury to begin with and understand anything that would be adduced”).

 [295]. Taft, People, supra note 261, at 1101.

 [296]. In the early years of U.S. rule, caciques were said to have used their longstanding power and control over local courts “to oppress the poor, collect usurious debts, punish enemies, reward friends, win elections, and in general control the community.” Bonifacio Salamanca, The Filipino Reaction to American Rule, 19011913 (1965) (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Yale Univ.).

 [297]. Taft, People, supra note 261, at 1103.

 [298]. Taft Tells of Our Duty in Philippines, N.Y. Times, Aug. 12, 1904, at 7.

 [299]. William H. Taft, Special Report of Secretary of War to the President on the Philippines 41 (1908).

 [300]. Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 7.

 [301]. Affairs in the Philippine Islands, supra note 290, at 304.

 [302]. Philippines Policy Discussed by Taft, N.Y. Times, Oct. 25, 1904, at 6 (reporting Taft’s speech to the Union League Club of Brooklyn).

     [303].     See supra Part II.

 [304]. Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 11. Taft praised the Filipino judiciary and procedure in comparison with mainland American ones in other speeches. See Taft, Defects, supra note 132, at 853.

 [305]. See, e.g., 34 Cong. Rec. S6,148 (1902) (statement of Sen. Patterson); 34 Cong. Rec. S7,759 (1902) (statement of Rep. Norton); 34 Cong. Rec. S7,773 (1902) (statement of Rep. Neville).

 [306]. See infra notes 5254, 62 and accompanying text.

 [307]. Philippine Organic Act, ch. 1369, 32 Stat. 691 (1902).

 [308]. Id. § 1.

 [309]. See id. §§ 6–7.

 [310]. Id. § 9.

 [311]. Id. § 10.

 [312]. During the period of post-Civil War westward expansion in North America, Congress had enacted a framework statute providing that “[t]he Constitution and all laws of the United States which are not locally inapplicable shall have the same force and effect within all the organized Territories, and in every Territory hereafter organized as elsewhere within the United States.” See Revised Statutes of the United States, Passed at the First Session of the Forty-Third Congress 187374 § 1891 (Washington, Gov. Printing Office 1875). Although it “organized” the Philippines in the Organic Act, Congress expressly provided that Section 1891, which presumptively extended the Constitution to the territories, “shall not apply to the Philippine Islands.” Philippine Organic Act § 1.

 [313]. See Philippine Organic Act § 5.

 [314]. See id. A Takings Clause was also omitted, but its functional equivalent was found in the insular civil procedure code. See Vicente G. Sinco, Philippine Government and Political Law 443 (3d rev. ed. 1934).

     [315].     Philippine Organic Act § 5. For a summary chart comparing statutory protections in the Philippines to provisions in the U.S. Constitution, see infra Appendix A.

 [316]. See Kepner v. United States, 195 U.S. 100, 121–22 (1904). The Supreme Court of the Philippines had held the same thing the prior year. See United States v. Colley, 3 Phil. Rep. 58, 58 (S.C., Dec. 12, 1903).

 [317]. Hawaii v. Mankichi, 190 U.S. 197, 197 (1903).

 [318]. See Brief of the Solicitor General for the United States at 5–6, Hawaii v. Mankichi, 190 U.S. 197 (1903) (No. 512).

 [319]. Id. at 21. See also Downes v. Bidwell, 182 U.S. 244, 244 (1901).

 [320]. See id. at 21–25 (citing Maxwell v. Dow, 176 U.S. 581 (1900)); Bolln v. Nebraska, 176 U.S. 83 (1900); Brown v. New Jersey, 175 U.S. 172 (1899). See also supra Part III.

 [321]. Mankichi, 190 U.S. at 218, 244.

 [322]. Id. at 214.

 [323]. See id. at 219–20 (White, J., concurring).

     [324].     Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138, 138 (1904). 

 [325]. See Brief of the Solicitor General, supra note 287, at 27.

 [326]. Id.

 [327]. Id. at 27–28.

 [328]. See id. at 28–30.

 [329]. Holden v. Hardy, 169 U.S. 366, 389 (1898).

 [330]. Brief for the United States at 224–25, Goetze v. United States, 182 U.S. 221 (1901) (No. 340), Fourteen Diamond Rings v. United States, 183 U.S. 176 (1901) (No. 419) (joint brief), reprinted in The Insular Cases: Comprising the Records, Briefs, and Arguments of Counsel in the Insular Cases of the October Term, 1900, in the Supreme Court of the United States Including the Appendixes Thereto 137 (1901).

 [331]. Brief of the Solicitor General, supra note 287, at 30.

                   [332].     See Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138, 142–43, 146–47 (1904).

 [333]. See id. at 144–45.

 [334]. Id. at 145. The phrase “uncivilized” was generally used synonymously with “non-Christian” to refer to the eight to ten percent of the Filipino population that was not Catholic. Among this group were the Muslim Moros of the island of Mindanao, as well as some tribal peoples of remote areas who were still living more or less as they had for millennia. See, e.g., Manuel L. Quezon, The Right of the Philippines to Independence, 1 Filipino People, no. 2, 1912, at 1, 2–5.

 [335]. Dorr, 195 U.S. at 146.

 [336]. See Wilfley, supra note 257, at 733–34.

 [337]. See generally United States v. Grafton, 6 Phil. Rep. 55 (1906) (requesting a criminal jury); United States v. Carrington, 5 Phil. Rep. 725 (1906) (same); United States v. Dorr, 2 Phil. Rep. 269 (1903) (same); United States v. Kepner, 1 Phil. Rep. 397 (1902) (same); United States v. Crozier, 5 Phil. Rep. 621 (1906) (same); Oehlers v. Hartwig, 5 Phil. Rep. 487 (1906) (requesting a civil jury). The Ocampo case, which appears to have involved native Filipino defendants, is sometimes said to have involved a claim for constitutional jury rights, but what the criminal defendants actually argued was that the failure to be given a pretrial, preliminary examination by a magistrate violated their due process rights under the Philippine Organic Act of 1902. See United States v. Ocampo, 18 Phil. 1, 37 (1910).

 [338]. See Affairs in the Philippine Islands, supra note 290, at 282 (1902) (statement of William H. Taft); Wilfley, supra note 257, at 734–35.

 [339]. Philippine Judge Tells Conditions, Morning Oregonian, May 27, 1914, at 15.

 [340]. Id.

 [341]. The Filipino Elections, N.Y. Times, Aug. 4, 1907, at 3.

 [342]. James A. Le Roy, Philippine Problems After Ten Years’ Experience, 5 Proc. Am. Pol. Sci. Ass’n 203, 211 (1908).

 [343]. The vetoed bill would have given each provincial government the right to select a slate of ten to twenty-five permanent jurors. 2 Journal of the Philippine Commission, Being the First Session and a Special Session of the First Philippine Legislature 232 (1908). From this slate, the criminal defendant would select one juror and the victim or complainant would select another; neither the prosecution nor the court had any say in the matter. The two jurors would decide the facts in the criminal trial, and would be paid handsomely for each day of service. Id. The Commission’s report on its veto said that such a system “could result only in disaster to the proper, equitable, and impartial administration of justice. . . . [T]he judicial department, which is above the smoke and the noise of political battle . . . is deprived of one of its most essential powers in the administration of justice—namely, the selection of jurors—and is made subservient to the provincial board of each province, which might be tempted to select jurors willing to aid them in perpetuating their political power.” Id.

 [344]. Arthur F. Odlin, American Courts in the Orient, 47 Am. L. Rev. 321, 332 (1913). Odlin was a judge on the Court of First Instance in the Philippines and, later, a U.S. district judge in Puerto Rico.

 [345]. Vicente G. Sinco, Principles of Philippine Constitutional Government 275 (1927).

 [346]. Philippine Autonomy (Jones) Act, supra note 61.

 [347]. The Debate on the Jones Bill, Filipino People, Nov. 1914, at 10.

 [348]. Id. at 22.

 [349]. A. Sidney Lanier, The Judicial System in the Philippines, Outlook, Jan. 31, 1914, at 274. See also D. R. Williams, The United States and the Philippines 121 (1924) (praising Filipino courts for their “simplified procedure, civil and criminal . . . where rich and poor fared alike”). Williams, an American lawyer, became a judge in a lower court in the Philippines and then an attorney in private practice in Manila.

 [350]. Lanier, supra note 349, at 274.

 [351]. Texas Court System Behind Philippines, Fort Worth Star-Telegram, Sept. 18, 1912, at 7.

 [352]. Id.

 [353]. See Philippine Independence (Tydings–McDuffie) Act, Pub. L. No. 73–127, 48 Stat. 456 (1934).

 [354]. See generally Const. (1935) (Phil.).

 [355]. Robert Aura Smith, The Philippine Bill of Rights, 4 Far E.Q. 170, 179 (1945).

 [356]. See Cabranes, supra note 5, at 31.

 [357]. See Pratt, supra note 61, at 184.

 [358]. Report of Brig. Gen. Geo. W. Davis, U.S.V., on Civil Affairs of Puerto Rico 26 (1900).

 [359]. Id. at 29.

 [360]. G.N. Lieber, Report of the Judge-Advocate-Gen., Annual Reports of the War Department, H.R. Doc. No. 56-2, at 123, 134–35 (1899) [hereinafter Lieber, Report].

 [361]. Monge, supra note 29, at 31–32.

 [362]. See Lieber, Report, supra note 360, at 135.

 [363]. Id.

 [364]. Id. at 136–37. See also Report of Brig. Gen. Geo. W. Davis, supra note 358, at 27–28.

 [365]. Henry K. Carroll, Report on the Island of Porto Rico 296, 311–12 (Washington, Gov. Printing Office 1899).

 [366]. Lieber, Report, supra note 360, at 141.

 [367]. Industrial and Other Conditions of the Island of Puerto Rico, and the Form of Government Which Should Be Adopted for It: Hearings on S. 2264 Before the Comm. on Pacific Islands and Puerto Rico, 56th Cong. 79 (1900) (statement of Brig. Gen. George W. Davis, U.S.A., Military Governor of Puerto Rico).

 [368]. Arturo Morales Carrión, Puerto Rico: A Political and Cultural History 149 (1983).

 [369]. Report of the U.S. Insular Commission to the Secretary of War Upon Investigations Made Into the Civil Affairs of the Island of Porto Rico With Recommendations 61–62 (Gov. Printing Office 1899).

 [370]. Id. at 63–65.

 [371]. Hearings on S. 2264, supra note 367, at 97 (statement of Henry G. Curtis, Member, Insular Comm.).

 [372]. Carroll had a doctorate in law, worked as a journalist and editor at The Independent for many years, and held senior positions in Methodist Church and missionary organizations.

 [373]. See Carroll, supra note 365, at 63–64 (recommending jury in criminal cases and “certain classes of civil suits”); id. at 290, 293, 298 (favorably describing the U.S. jury system to Puerto Rican officials and other witnesses).

 [374]. Id. at 288.

 [375]. Id. at 296–98.

 [376]. Id. at 311–12.

 [377]. Id. at 290.

 [378]. Id. at 291.

 [379]. See, e.g., id. at 307.

 [380]. Organic (Foraker) Act of 1900, ch. 191, 31 Stat. 77.

 [381]. See Joseph Foraker, Temporary Civil Government for Porto Rico, S. Rep. No. 56-249, at 1 (1900) [hereinafter Foraker, Committee Report].

     [382].     Foraker Act § 18.

 [383]. Id. § 34.

 [384]. See Crowley v. United States, 194 U.S. 461, 467 (1904). Accord Martinez v. Valdes, 10 P.R. Fed. Rep. 449, 455–56 (1918).

 [385]. Rules 37–38, Rules of the United States Court for the District of Porto Rico, reprinted in 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 1, 19. See United States v. Cruz, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 445, 445 (1902) (grand jury and criminal petit jury); Siebert v. Vivoni, 4 P.R. Fed. Rep. 111, 111 (1908) (civil jury). See also Act of June 25,1906, Pub. L. No. 59-293, ch. 3542, 34 Stat. 466, 466 (Congress providing that “the juries for said court [U.S. district court in Puerto Rico] shall always be selected and drawn in accordance with the laws of Congress regulating the same in the United States courts”).

 [386]. See Burnett, Untied States, supra note 26, at 849.

 [387]. Foraker Act § 35.

 [388]. Foraker, Committee Report, supra note 381, at 3.

 [389]. Foraker Act § 34.

 [390]. Government of Porto Rico, Wash. Post, Jan. 4, 1900, at 4; Rules for Porto Rico, Wash. Post, Jan. 28, 1900, at 5; Government of Puerto Rico, N.Y. Times, Jan. 28, 1900, at 4. See also Cabranes, supra note 5, at 22–23.

 [391]. Cabranes, supra note 5, at 23–24, 28–29, 31, 38, 50. See also Erman, supra note 49, at 1197.

 [392]. See Foraker, Committee Report, supra note 381, at 4–6. See generally Comm. On Ways & Means, To Regulate the Trade of Puerto Rico, and for Other Purposes, H.R. Rep. No. 56-249 (1900).

     [393].     Rules for Porto Rico, Wash. Post, Jan. 28, 1900, at 5.

 [394]. Id.

 [395]. Foraker, Committee Report, supra note 381, at 6.

 [396]. Id. at 9 (citation omitted).

 [397]. Id. at 11.

 [398]. See An Act to Establish Trial by Jury in Porto Rico, C.B. 1, §§ 1–6 (1901), reprinted in The Acts and Resolves of the First Legislative Assembly of Porto Rico 1–2 (1901). See also Porto Rican Bills Passed: First Measure Was One to Establish Jury Trials, N.Y. Times, Jan. 17, 1901, at 5 (noting that the jury measure was the first act passed).

 [399]. See Schick v. United States, 195 U.S. 65, 68–69 (1904); Callan v. Wilson, 127 U.S. 540, 552, 557 (1888).

 [400]. Charles H. Allen, Address to the Two Branches of the Legislature of Porto Rico 10 (Dec. 4, 1900). Allen, a businessman and Republican politician, served in the Massachusetts legislature, the U.S. House for two terms, and as Assistant Secretary of the Navy from 1898–1900, at which time he was appointed the first civilian governor of Puerto Rico.

 [401]. See Balzac v. Porto Rico, 258 U.S. 298, 302–05 (1922).

 [402]. See id. at 303; Pablo Berga y Ponce de Leon, El Jurado en Puerto Rico 22 (1929) (Spanish text).

 [403]. An Act Concerning Procedure in Jury Trials, C.B. 7 (1901), reprinted in Acts and Resolves of the First Legislative Assembly of Porto Rico 112 (1901); An Act to Define the Rights of the People, reprinted in Revised Statutes and Codes of Porto Rico 274–75 (1902); An Act to Establish a Code of Criminal Procedure for Porto Rico (1902), reprinted in Revised Statutes and Codes of Porto Rico 621 (1902).

 [404]. An Act to Define the Rights of the People §§ 1–4, supra note 403, at 274–75.

 [405]. Code of Criminal Procedure of Porto Rico §§ 178, 185, supra note 403, at 660–61.

 [406]. Id. § 236.

 [407]. Id. §§ 6–8, 11, 448.

 [408]. Id. §§ 132, 179.

 [409]. Id. § 469. See also id. § 471 (listing courts which may grant writs of habeas corpus); id. § 483 (specifying grounds for habeas relief).

 [410]. An Act Concerning Procedure in Jury Trials § 64, supra note 403, at 124–25.

 [411]. Code of Criminal Procedure of Porto Rico § 141, supra note 403, at 652.

 [412]. Id.

 [413]. Cintrón v. Banco Territorial y Agrícola, 15 P.R.R. 495, 520 (1909) (quoting Civil Code of Porto Rico § 3) (“Laws shall not have retroactive effect unless they expressly so decree. In no case shall the retroactive effect of a law operate to the prejudice of rights acquired under previous legislative action.”).

 [414]. Quiñones v. Castello, 16 P.R. 467, 476–77 (1910); Compagnie des Sucreries de Puerto Rico v. Ponce & Guyama R.R., 2 P.R. Fed. Rep. 176, 180–81 (1906); Battistini v. Crosas, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 62, 64–65 (1903).

 [415]. An Act to Provide for the Condemnation of Private Property for the Purposes and Under the Conditions Therein Named, §§ 3, 10–13, reprinted in Acts and Resolutions of the First Session of the Second Legislative Assembly of Porto Rico 50 (1903).

 [416]. In 1919, the Legislative Assembly provided that all felonies “shall be prosecuted by indictment of the Grand Jury.” An Act Establishing the Grand Jury § 1 (1919), in Acts and Resolutions of the Second Session of the Ninth Legislature of Porto Rico 302 (1919). This was almost wholly repealed in 1925, leaving only a “felony charged against a public officer by reason of acts done by him in the performance of his duties” to be initiated by grand jury. People v. Cardona, 50 P.R.R. 104, 110 (1936).

 [417]. Congress established the Federal District Court for the District of Puerto Rico under Article III in 1966. See generally Act of Sept. 12, 1966, Pub. L. 89–571, 80 Stat. 764.

 [418]. See Hernandez v. J. Ochoa y Hermano, 5 P.R. Fed. Rep. 463, 477–80 (1910), aff’d 230 U.S. 139 (1913); Santiago v. Nogueras, 2 P.R. Fed. Rep. 467, 488 (1907), aff’d 214 U.S. 260 (1909).

 [419]. Cintrón v. Banco Territorial y Agrícola, 15 P.R. 495, 519 (1909).

 [420]. See Jones–Shafroth Act, ch. 145, § 2, Pub. L. 64–368, 39 Stat. 951, 951–52 (1917).

 [421]. Id.

 [422]. William H. Holt, The Jury System, 67 Albany L.J. 298, 299–300 (1905).

 [423]. Id. at 300.

 [424]. James S. Harlan, Annual Report to the Attorney-General of the United States., 1 Opinions of the Attorney-General of Porto Rico to the Governor, the Heads of Departments, the Judiciary and Other Officials 237, 246 (1903). 

 [425]. See L[eo] S. Rowe, The United States and Porto Rico 202 (1904); Porto Rico Prosperous, N.Y. Times, Sept. 13, 1903, at 7.

 [426]. Willis Sweet, Report of the Attorney-General, Third Annual Report of the Governor of Porto Rico to the President of the United States 72, 80 (1903).

 [427]. Id. at 81.

 [428]. Id. at 80.

 [429]. Id. at 80–81.

 [430]. Permanent governors of Puerto Rico came from the mainland until 1946. See Hispanic Americans in Congress, 1822–2012, at 6, 376 (Matthew A. Wasniewski et al. eds., 2013) (discussing Gov. Jesús T. Piñero). A native Puerto Rican was the appointed attorney general from 1919–1923, but he clashed with the governor and was followed in office by mainland-born attorneys general for two decades. See Truman R. Clark, Puerto Rico and the United States, 1917–1933, at 60, 68–72 (1975) (discussing Att’y-Gen. Salvador Mestre).

     [431].     Willis Sweet, Report of The Attorney-General, supra note 426, at 88.

     [432].              Id.

     [433].     See supra note 405.

 [434]. William H. Hunt, Fourth Annual Report of the Governor of Porto Rico 9, 25 (1904). Many Puerto Ricans—most of whom were Roman Catholics—had conscientious scruples against the death penalty and would either be disqualified from serving on juries in capital cases, making it harder to procure a jury at all, or would acquit if they did serve. Id. See generally Berga y Ponce de Leon, supra note 402.

 [435]. See William H. Hunt, Fourth Annual Report of the Governor of Porto Rico, supra note 434, at 51, 59.

 [436]. See Arthur Train, Sensationalism and Jury Trials, 25 Everybody’s Mag., July–Dec. 1911, at 337, 337 (1901: 38%; 1902: 45%; 1903: 39%; 1904: 42%; 1905: 38%; 1906: 35%; 1907: 31%; 1908: 32%; 1909: 34%; 1910: 34%).

 [437]. Taft, Administration, supra note 83, at 5.

 [438]. The acquittal rates for jury trials in the fiscal years ending 1909, 1910, and 1911 were 36%, 33%, and 33%, respectively. See Henry M. Hoyt, Report of the Attorney-General, 9 War Department Annual Reports, H.R. Doc. No. 61-103, at 73, 79 (1909); Foster V. Brown, Report of the Attorney-General, 4 War Department Annual Reports, H.R. Doc. No. 61-1002, at 205 (1910); Foster V. Brown, Report of the Attorney General, Report of the Governor of Porto Rico to the Secretary of War 255, 255 (1911).

 [439]. Foster V. Brown, Report of the Governor of Porto Rico to the Secretary of War supra note 438 at 255.

 [440]. Porto Rico Happy Under Our Rule, N.Y. Times, Mar. 20, 1912, at 6.

 [441]. Id.

 [442]. Id.

 [443]. Rassmussen v. United States, 197 U.S. 516, 522–23 (1905).

    [444].      In re Tapia, 9 P.R. Fed. Rep. 452, 455–56 (D.P.R. 1917).

 [445]. Id. at 494.

 [446]. Id. at 492–95.

 [447]. Muratti v. Foote, 25 P.R. 527, 529–30, 541 (1917).

 [448]. Brief for the People of Porto Rico at 4, Porto Rico v. Tapia, 245 U.S. 639 (1918) (No. 534), Porto Rico v. Muratti, 245 U.S. 639 (1918) (No. 647) (joint brief). 

 [449]. Id. at 6 (quoting Holden v. Hardy, 169 U.S. 366, 389 (1898)).

 [450]. Id. at 17.

 [451]. Id. at 4 (citation omitted).

 [452]. Id. at 13.

 [453]. Id. at 18–27.

 [454]. Porto Rico v. Tapia, 245 U.S. 639, 639 (1918) (per curiam).

 [455]. Porto Rico v. Muratti, 245 U.S. 639, 639–40 (1918) (per curiam).

 [456]. Porto Rico v. Balzac, 28 P.R. 139, 140 (1920).

 [457]. Id.

 [458]. Brief for the People of Porto Rico at 6–12, Balzac v. Porto Rico, 258 U.S. 298 (1922) (Nos. 178 & 179).

 [459]. Balzac, 258 U.S.at 298–314.

 [460]. Id. at 304–05 (citing Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138, 145 (1904), Hawaii v. Mankichi, 190 U.S. 197 (1903), Downes v. Bidwell, 182 U.S. 244 (1901)).

 [461]. Id. at 306.

 [462]. Id. at 313.

 [463]. Id. at 310.

 [464]. Id.


[a] Until provisions of the Bill of Rights were incorporated against the U.S. states via the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, almost all of the constitutional protections listed here for the mainland were protections against the federal government only.

[b] An Act to Define the Rights of the People, supra note 403.

[c] Jones–Shafroth Act, supra note 420 .

[d] See Siebert v. Vivoni, 4 P.R. Fed. Rep. 111, 112–13 (D.P.R. 1908); Pettingill v. Zeno Gandia, 4 P.R. Fed. Rep. 383, 39394 (D.P.R. 1908), rev’d on other grounds, 222 U.S. 452 (1912).

[e] See Ex parte Bird, 5 P.R.R. 241, 261–62 (1904).

[f] See Díaz-Caneja v. Marxuach, 8 P.R.R. 458, 461–62 (1905).

[g] See Coan v. Lopez Antongiorgi, 10 P.R. Fed. Rep. 438, 439–44 (D.P.R. 1918); People of Porto Rico v. Fajardo Cardona, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep. 277, 2 (D.P.R. 1916); Ex parte Bird, 5 P.R.R. 241, 261-62 (P.R. 1904).

[h] McKinley, Instructions, supra note 245. 

[i] Philippine Organic Act, § 5.

[j] Philippine Autonomy (Jones) Act, supra note 61.

[k] An Act to Establish a Code of Criminal Procedure for Porto Rico, supra note 403.

[l] See Coan v. Lopez Antongiorgi, 10 P.R. Fed. Rep. 438, 439–44 (D.P.R. 1918); People of Porto Rico v. Fajardo Cardona, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep. 277, 277 (D.P.R. 1916).

[m] See, e.g., United States v. Villanua, 4 P.R. Fed. Rep. 341, 341–43 (D.P.R. 1908); United States v. Cruz, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 445, 445 (1902) (grand jury used).

[n] See Balzac v. Porto Rico, 258 U.S. 298, 304–05 (1922); Porto Rico v. Tapia, 245 U.S. 639, 639 (1918) (per curiam); Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138 (1904).

[o] An Act Concerning Procedure in Jury Trials, supra note 403.

[p] See In re Cardona, 10 P.R. Fed. Rep. 40, 45–46, 50, 53, 61–62 (D.P.R. 1917); United States v. Fernandez, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 453, 454 (D.P.R. 1903).

[q] See United States v. Rivera, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep. 401, 403 (D.P.R. 1916); In re Decker, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 381, 383 (D.P.R. 1902).

[r] See People v. Morales, 14 P.R.R. 227, 240 (1908) (citing Ex parte Spies, 123 U.S. 131 (1887), a Fifth Amendment Self-Incrimination Clause case); People v. Kent, 10 P.R.R. 325, 349 (1906) (seeming to assume that the Self-Incrimination Clause of the Fifth Amendment is applicable, but noting that the same principle is found in the Code of Criminal Procedure).

[s] See Hernandez v. J. Ochoa y Hermano, 5 P.R. Fed. Rep. 463, 47780 (1910), aff’d 230 U.S. 139 (1913); Santiago v. Nogueras, 2 P.R. Fed. Rep. 467, 488 (1907), aff’d 214 U.S. 260 (1909); Compagnie des Sucreries de Puerto Rico v. Ponce & Guyama R.R. Co., 2 P.R. Fed. Rep. 176, 18081 (1906).  

[t] An Act to Provide for the Condemnation of Private Property for the Purposes and Under the Conditions Therein Named, supra note 415.

[u] General Orders No. 58, supra note 263.

[v] See Ochoa v. Hernadez y Morales, 230 U.S. 139, 139 (1913); Santiago v. Nogueras, 214 U.S. 260, 260 (1909). See also Endencia v. Loalhati, G.R. No. L-3787, 9 Phil. Rep. 177, 183 (1907) (stating that the requirement of “due process” before property is deprived is part of the “fundamental constitution of every civilized country”).

[w] See People of Porto Rico v. Fajardo Cardona, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep. 277, 279–81 (D.P.R. 1916).

[x] See id.

[y] See, e.g., United States v. Reyes, 4 P.R. Fed. Rep. 69 (D.P.R. 1907); United States v. Cruz, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 445 (D.P.R. 1902).

[z] See Balzac v. Puerto Rico, 258 U.S. 298, 30405 (1922); Dorr v. United States, 195 U.S. 138 (1904).

[aa] See Fajardo Cardona, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep.at 279–81.

[bb] See United States v. Virrey, G.R. No. L-12901, 37 Phil. Rep. 623–24 (1918) (stating that admission of dying declarations must be done cautiously because criminal defendants have confrontation rights under the common law, the U.S. Constitution, and the Philippine Organic Act).

[cc] See United States v. Rivera, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 439, 440 (D.P.R. 1901).

[dd] The civil jury was used “regularly” in the U.S. district court since the Foraker Act. Martinez v. Valdes, 10 P.R. Fed. Rep. 449, 454 (1918). For examples, see Siebert v. Vivoni, 4 P.R. Fed. Rep. 111 (1908); Elkins v. People of Porto Rico, 5 P.R. Fed. Rep. 243 (D.P.R. 1909). Federal courts at times implied that the Seventh Amendment required this, see United States v. Thirty Quarts of Roederer Champagne, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep. 585, 586 (D.P.R. 1916); at other times, they pointed to a statute governing process in federal courts, see F. Carrera & Hermano v. Font, Gamundi & Co., 70 F.2d 999, 1001 (1st Cir. 1934), or stated that the Foraker Act impliedly required a civil jury, see Martinez, 10 P.R. Fed. Rep. at 455–56.

[ee] See Cintrón v. Banco Territorial y Agrícola, 15 P.R.R. 495, 51920 (1909).

[ff] See Compagnie des Sucreries de Puerto Rico v. Ponce & Guyama R.R., 2 P.R. Fed. Rep. 176, 18081 (1906).

[gg] See Quiñones v. Castello, 16 P.R. 467, 476–77 (1910); Battistini v. Crosas, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 62, 64–65 (1903).

[hh] See Ex parte Bird, 5 P.R.R. 241, 261-62 (1904).

[ii] For U.S. district court cases, see, e.g., United States v. Sierra, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep. 12, 14 (D.P.R. 1915); United States v. Reyes, 4 P.R. Fed. Rep. 69, 71 (D.P.R. 1907); United States v. Cruz, 1 P.R. Fed. Rep. 445, 446 (1902).

[jj] See United States v. Escobar, 9 P.R. Fed. Rep. 253, 260 (D.P.R. 1916).

[kk] Seeid. at 257–58 (D.P.R. 1916); United States v. Alvarez, 8 P.R. Fed. Rep. 260, 261 (D.P.R. 1915).

[ll] Although it came after the time period covered by this table, I should note the decision of the Puerto Rico Supreme Court holding that the Nineteenth Amendment did not apply there. See Morales v. Board of Registration, 33 P.R.R. 76, 89–90 (1924).

[mm] United States v. Navarro, G.R. No. 1272, 3 Phil. Rep. 143, 143–44 (1904); United States v. Reyes, G.R. No. L-1374, 3 Phil. Rep. 3 (1903).

[nn] See United States v. Luling, G.R. No. L-11162, 34 Phil. Rep. 725, 725 (1916).